A Different Fate
by The Kryss
Summary: When Harry, Ron, and Hermione try escaping from Draco and his gang, they find the magical world of Narnia, wardrobe style.
1. Bloody Hell

**Hogwarts VS Narnia**

Chapter 1 Bloody Hell

"Hurry, he's coming!" hissed Hermione. She, Ron, and Harry were running down the stairwell that led to the Entrance Hall. They could hear the frenzied drawl of Draco Malfoy chasing them with his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione was sure Pansy Parkinson was in on the fun as well, but no one had seen or heard her. Nevertheless she was known to be quiet but deadly.

"In here," whispered Harry, pushing open a door. "Hurry, or they'll see us."

Ron and Hermione didn't need telling twice before they raced into the room. Once Harry had closed the door Hermione let out an audible gasp.

"Harry! We're in the Staff Room. Only teachers are allowed in here!"

"Would you rather be crudely dissected then cut up into tiny little bits and fed to the dragons?" Ron asked.

"There are no dragons in Hogwarts," Hermione stated stiffly.

"Who knows what's down in the Slytherin common dungeon," Ron hissed threateningly.

"Which way did they go?" drawled a voice, right outside the door.

"Hide!" whispered Harry.

Ron looked wildly around. The room was filled with un-matching small wooden chairs. By the far wall there was a wardrobe. Sometimes it held a boggart. This time, with any luck, there would be no boggart, but three Hogwartians.

"In here," he said, pulling open the wardrobe doors wide enough for the three of them to scamper in.

Then, as quietly as he could, he closed it, but not all the way. Everyone knows not to close a wardrobe all the way lest you get locked in. And that would certainly not be good.

"Check in there," came a muffled voice. The Staff Room doorknob began to turn and the door swung open.

"Get back," ordered Harry in such a quiet voice both Ron and Hermione weren't sure they actually had heard anything at all.

Nevertheless they moved further into the wardrobe. There was nothing to push aside or hide in. No one used this wardrobe anymore, so no coats or scarves, or anything at all was hanging inside.

Ron kept his eyes on the tiny sliver of light that came through the almost closed doors. He thought he saw a body move past, but wasn't sure. A stifled cry made Ron lose focus and turn around, ready to face anything, well, hopefully not anything. Spiders were way too creepy to face. Not that the last encounter with a spider could be classified as creepy. Aragog wasn't the creepy type. He was more the I-will-let-my-young-feast-upon-your-flesh type. But that didn't matter right now. Hopefully.

What he wasn't expecting however was to be in a forest surrounded by pine trees and snow. He looked up at the sky and saw millions of tiny white flecks float softly down to the frozen ground.

"Bloody hell. What is going on?"

Harry and Hermione were just as shocked as he was.

"Bloody hell."


	2. Sons of Adam and Daughter of Eve

**(I own nothing. If you know it, it's not mine. Pretty much everything but Mr. Winkle, belongs to JKR and CSL. Enjoy.)**

**Chapter 2 Sons of Adam and Daughter of Eve**

"Hey," sounded Hermione. Both Ron and Harry looked down to the solid white ground where she was pointing. There was already a jumble of foot prints besides their own.

"So, somebody else went voyaging through the wardrobe, eh?" Ron managed weakly.

"This is no laughing matter, Ron," scolded Hermione. She folded her arms to her chest and stared out into the wood beyond.

"If we go back, Malfoy will find us," Harry said, his own arms trying to warm up his rapidly freezing body. "I promised Professor McGonagall I wouldn't get into trouble this week." He sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders. "We might as well explore for a bit. We won't get lost as long as we don't lose our footprints."

Harry started to walk forward before realizing his two friends weren't following. He turned back. Hermione was glaring at him, slightly shaking. Ron was looking between the two of them, deciding which to side with.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. We'll be fine. We might even get out of this cold." Ron looked pleadingly towards Hermione.

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "But if anything bad happens, don't say I didn't tell you so."

The three of them trudged on, closely following the other pairs of footprints. They twisted this way and that, merely avoiding pine tree after pine tree. The threesome zigzagged through overgrown bushes and snowdrifts. Once or twice one of them fell, but got right back up after a grown and a snicker from Ron.

"Oi! I see light," Ron cheered gaily, pointing towards a small yellow light a little way off.

"Well, let's get a move on," Harry said eagerly. "I'm cold, hungry, and slightly tired. There must be some place we can sit down and have a drink and a bite to eat."

Minutes later the yellow light turned into a lamp post. Its strong flame never flickered as they walked past; hoping the footprints they were following wouldn't let them down. By now, even Harry and Ron were shaking.

Finally the trees cleared just enough so that a car could drive had it been a road. They stared around them. It seemed like a nice winter day although the sun wasn't really shining and the birds seemed to be all nesting. Noting seemed to be stirring. In fact, nothing seemed to be living anywhere near here. Everything seemed dead and frozen.

"Sons of Adam? Daughter of Eve? Do my eyes deceive me?" squeaked a tiny voice.

The unexpected sound of another voice made everyone jump into each other, Ron holding Hermione close, Harry only slightly in front of Ron. They looked down.

"A mouse?" exclaimed Hermione. "Mice can't talk." She looked around expecting to find the real source of the noise, but nothing else was there.

"Why, excuse me, ma'am, but mice can talk, for I certainly am talking and I am most definitely a mice… er mouse."

"Well, Mr. Mouse,"

"Winkle, Mr. Winkle."

"Well Mr. er Winkle, you're a mouse! Mice can't talk!" Hermione's face was turning red, trying to grasp the idea of talking mice.

"Very well, if you say mice cannot talk, pretend I'm only transferring my thoughts into your head…"

"You mean telepathy," she interrupted.

"Telly what?"

"Telepathy."

"Ok, sure, but we all know that I am a mouse, but what I need to know is, what are _you_?"

"People, you know, the things that tend to scream and climb on chairs anytime one sees you," informed Ron, a grin etched across his face.

"People," said Mr. Winkle slowly, sounding out the word. "People. You mean Sons of Adam and Daughter of Eve? You are _human_?"

"Last time I checked I was," clarified Ron, clearly enjoying having a conversation with a mouse.

"Then you are not safe here! The White Witch, she'll take you away! She'll kill you!"

"Who's the White Witch?" asked Harry.

"Not now, not here!" Mr. Winkle hissed. "Go, we must go now before she hears about you. Follow me," he said, motioning them to follow.

"Why should we trust a talking mouse?" Harry inquired, looking rather worried.

"You act like you've never seen a talking mouse before!" Mr. Winkle said exasperatedly.

"Well, actually, we haven't."

"Never seen a talking mouse!" cried Mr. Winkle, forgetting to be quite in fear of the White Witch.

"Please, Mr. Winkle, I thought we were to be quiet?" loudly asked Hermione.

"SHHH!" Mr. Winkle screeched. "Do you want everyone and their mother to hear you? Even worse, the trees? Not all of them are good you know."

"Trees?" asked Harry and Ron at the same time.

"Not here, not now. Follow me. Once we get to the Beaver's we can talk."

**Mice and witches and trees, oh my! Lawl**

**Please review. Reviewing will make Draco happy. So, please review…**

**Draco + mad = Death Eater Draco + happy = not as bad of a Death Eater**


	3. The Prophecy

**(Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Good or bad is always helpful.**

**This is in multiple POVs: Draco's gang POV and Harry's gang POV. Again, if you know it, it's not mine. Just about everything but Mr. Winkle belongs to JKR and CSL. Enjoy.)**

**Chapter 3 The Prophecy**

"I don't mean to be rude," started up Hermione again, "but how do we know we can trust you? You already said someone was trying to kill us."

"Well, Daughter of Eve," Mr. Winkle said sarcastically, "I said the White Witch was trying to kill you. Do I look like a witch to you, not to mention, white?"

"Well, um...no."

"Well then, off we go," and with another wave of his hand, the mouse started scurrying on towards the Beavers.

( )

"Where are they?"

Draco turned around incredulously to look at Goyle. Whatever he may be, he wasn't very bright. Big yes, bright no. Draco sighed. There were both pros and cons to Goyle. He was loyal, strong, did what you said without questioning you, but when it came to helping out without his strength, he was next to nothing. And even worse than him was Crabbe, who was just standing in the middle of the room looking blankly at everyone.

Pansy Parkinson nodded her head towards the wardrobe. Both she and Draco grinned at each other.

"Why are you two going to the wardrobe?" asked Goyle. "There's usually a boggart in there."

"Why don't you just shut up you ignor…"

"Draco," hissed Pansy. Focusing her attention back on the wardrobe she stepped soundlessly ever closer.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," she squealed in her high pitched sadistic voice. "Oh where could they possibly be?"

As if they were looking, Pansy looked pleadingly towards Draco for guidance trying to put on a show. Draco didn't find this game amusing. He rolled his eyes and started determinedly towards the wardrobe.

"One, two, three!" Draco flew open the door. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged.

"Draco, what is it?" Pansy asked, concern etched in her voice that only Draco could detect.

"They hafta be here," he muttered under his breath. Draco ran his hands through his white hair and climbed into the wardrobe, Pansy following close behind. Crabbe and Goyle made up the rear.

As soon as Draco had entered he stopped dead in his tracks. He did a double take, then a triple before continuing to the end of the wardrobe, or what should have been the end. Only, where there should have been wood in the shape of the back wall, there was wood in the shape of trees.

"Pansy?"

"Draco, why is there a forest in the back of this wardrobe?" she asked pleasantly.

Draco shook his head as his feet touched the white-covered snowy ground.

( )

"Whoa," Ron exhaled. The foursome, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mr. Winkle, were staring at the largest beaver dam the Hogwarts students had ever seen.

"Damn."

"Ron, of course it's a dam. What else would it be?" Hermione scowled.

"Well," Mr. Winkle perked up, "we best be getting in. By Aslan's mane, it gets cold out here.

"Who's Aslan?" inquired Harry.

"Very funny, now let's get in." With that, Mr. Winkle headed towards what looked like the entrance to the Beaver's dam.

In a short while, the four of them were piled at the dam's entrance. Smoke was rising from the chimney in dark puffs while the lights flickered dramatically from the few windows surrounding the dam. Mr. Winkle knocked on the door.

"It's me, Mr. Winkle. Please let us in. It's important!"

A few seconds later the door was pulled open, revealing a beaver. He sniffed the air and looked at Mr. Winkle questioningly. The mouse nodded to his guests. When Mr. Beaver saw them, he gasped.

"Honey," he said, "You might want to see this."

A rather feminine beaver waddled over. She put her hand to her mouth. "Not more of them," she gasped. "Oh dear, why _more_?"

( )

"What is this place?" Goyle was standing right on the edge of the wardrobe, Crabbe right behind him.

"Don't be chicken," mocked Draco. He looked around the winter wonder land. "They were here. Look," he pointed towards the footprints on the ground.

"Guess there's only one thing left to do," Pansy stated, "follow them."

And that's exactly what they did. The footprints led to the lamp post and then onto what looked like a path. Within seconds they heard distant sleigh bells. Draco held up his hand, stopping the others and looked down the snowy path.

"What is it?" whispered Pansy, clinging to Draco.

"I don't know."

"I don't think this is going to be good," murmured Goyle.

There was nothing left to do but wait. They would encounter the sleigh one way or another; it was coming at a surprisingly fast pace.

"Draco," gasped Pansy. "Draco! Move!"

( )

Mrs. Beaver set the last mug of hot tea in front of Ron and sat down opposite of them next to her husband.

Ron looked around nervously. Hermione and Harry were sitting on either side of him, but sitting next to Harry were two girls and one boy. The boy looked to be the oldest. He was sitting next to a little girl, probably not even old enough to go to Hogwarts. Than another girl, older then himself, was sitting on the edge, almost falling off. Behind her, standing up, was another boy, about the same age.

"By Aslan's mane," Mr. Beaver mumbled.

"I don't mean to be rude," interrupted Harry, "but who is Aslan?"

"We'd like to know the same thing," commented the oldest boy.

"Aslan? Why, is this some kind of joke? Everyone knows of Aslan," confronted Mr. Beaver. By the blank looks he received, not everyone had indeed heard of Aslan. "This is going to be a long night."

"Well, dear?" urged Mrs. Beaver.

"Aslan is the King; Lord of the whole wood, but not here often. Not in my time nor my fathers. But word is, he has returned! He is in Narnia at this moment! He'll settle the White Witch, not you." Mr. Beaver looked directly at the other boy.

"What's Narnia?" Ron asked.

Mr. Beaver spat out a mouth full of tea. "Narnia! What is Narnia! Son of Adam, you're _in_ Narnia!"

"We're in Narnia?" Harry said. "This new place is Narnia?"

"Yes. Where have you been? With them I suppose," Mr. Beaver jerked his head towards the others "Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve".

"But won't Aslan get turned to stone too?" asked the boy in the back.

"Oh, that's a simple thing to say," Mr. Beaver laughed heartily. "Turn _him_ into stone? Why, if she can look him in the face without falling to her knees, that's the most she could do. No no, he'll put all to rights as it says in the…"

"Stone?" Ron interrupted. "Who got turned into stone?"

"Mr. Tumnus," said the youngest.

"Who?" Ron looked totally bewildered.

"He's a fawn. He helped me, saved my life. Then the White Witch," she gasped, trying to hold back tears.

"Oh Lucy, it's alright," cooed what looked like her sister on the end.

"The Secret Police found him out and took him away," finished the oldest.

"Who's the White Witch?" Harry asked again.

"Well for starters," began the oldest, "she's a witch and she's white."

"Well, that helps so much," Ron glared.

"Peter," scolded Lucy's sister. "The White Witch hates humans. She wants to kill us. Anyone who helps us is in danger."

"She'll turn them into stone," Lucy said darkly.

"He'll put all to rights as it says where?" asked Hermione.

"Where? Oh yes! The rhyme," Mr. Beaver continued.

"Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight.  
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more.  
When he bares his teeth, winter will meet its death,  
And when he shakes his mane, it will be spring again.

"You'll understand when you meet him."

"But shall we see him?" asked the sister.

"That's a silly question," Mr. Beaver smiled. "That's why I brought you here, well except for you three, but you're to come too, to meet him."

"Is, is he a man?" asked Lucy.

"A man, Aslan?" Mr. Beaver cried, choking on his tea. "Absolutely not. He is the King of the wood; the son of the Great Emperor-beyond-the –Sea. He's the King of Beasts. By his mane, he's a _lion_!"

"A lion!" shouted Ron, jumping to his feet and falling over backwards. "We're meeting a lion?"

"Is he safe?" asked the sister.

"Good yes," said Mrs. Beaver, "but safe? He is never safe."

"Where are we to meet him?" asked Peter. He looked very firm, but just as frightened.

"The Stone Table," Mr. Beaver answered.

"So, how will that help Tumnus any?" Harry asked.

"The quickest and best way you can help him is with Aslan. But we need you too. That's another old rhyme," Mr. Beaver stated.

"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone  
Sits in Chair Paravel in throne,  
The evil time will be over and done."

"That doesn't really rhyme," commented Ron.

"That's beside the point!" snarled Mr. Beaver, obviously annoyed that the humans before him didn't get what he was trying to say.

"Let's try this again," he said calming himself down. "There's another prophecy in Narnia time that says that in Chair Paravel, that's the castle down by the seacoast and ought to be the capital of this whole country, that there are four thrones. The saying goes that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit in those thrones, the rein of the White Witch and her life will end."

No one said a word. No one blinked or made a sound. Then finally the sister looked around with an odd expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Susan?" Peter asked, looking around as well. "Wait, where's my brother? Where's Edmund?"

**Sorry that this is a long chapter, but there was a lot to put in. NOTE: None of the rhymes or the prophecy is mine. CS Lewis wrote the rhymes word for word, and I summarized the prophecy.**

**If you review, the White Witch will do a jig just for you. So, PLEASE, review.**


	4. The White Witch

**Don't worry, action is on the way, but I have to set up the story first. You know the drill, nothing is mine.**

**Chapter 4 The White Witch**

Everyone stared around, looking for the boy who was behind Susan until, well, that's what everyone was trying to find out.

"Edmund!" yelled Peter, rushing out of the dam, the rest of the crowd following close behind.

"Edmund!" Lucy called. "Edmund, come back!"

"We need to split up into different search parties to…" Peter began to order.

"Search parties!" cried Mr. Beaver. "Whatever for?"

"To find Edmund," Susan and Hermione said at once. The two girls looked at each other then quickly looked away, arms crossed.

"We don't need to find Edmund, for we know where he's gone."

"Where?" asked seven voices at once.

"To _her_, the White Witch."

"He couldn't," breathed Peter.

"Couldn't he?" Mr. Beaver hissed. "Has he ever been to Narnia before?"

Lucy looked frightened before she pulled herself together and managed a weak, "Yes."

"Than mark my words, he's going to her. The first time I saw him I knew it. It's in the eyes," Mr. Beaver said. "You can always tell who's eaten her food by their eyes if you live long enough."

"But we have to look for him," Peter said. "Even if he is a little prat, he's still our brother."

"And what are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Beaver. "Walk right up to her and demand your brother back?"

"Well…"

"The best way to help you brother is to stay away from her," said Mr. Beaver. "If she gets you, everything is forfeit. The White Witch is always thinking about those four thrones. Your brother's a decoy."

"Than what do we do?" Peter asked.

"Aslan is the only one who can help you and your brother now."

( )

Pansy pushed Draco out of the way of the sleigh that was being pulled by two reindeer. Draco landed on his side but his face was still covered in snow when he looked up.

"Stop!" yelled a feminine voice. The voice held power and feared respect.

Both Draco and Pansy looked up from where they were in the snow.

At first Draco thought the voice came from the little dwarf that sat in the front driving the sleigh. Then he looked further into the sleigh. A great woman, almost as tall as Hagrid, was sitting straight looking at them in disgust. She was wrapped up in white fur like the dwarf but also she held in her hand a long, straight golden wand and on her head, a golden crown.

"And what are you?" the lady in white asked.

"What are we?" asked Pansy, standing up with her arms crossed and her expression one of anger. "We should ask you the same. What are you that has the right to almost trample us to death?"

"How dare you!" cried the lady in white. "How dare you question me, you little vagrant!" The lady in white stood up, her wand raised, a red gleam in her eyes. Just as the four of them thought they were goners, the lady in white seemed to change her mind.

"What are you, before I lose my patience?"

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Draco, now standing up, looking just as cross and Pansy.

"That is no way to address a queen!" the lady in white spat.

"You're a queen?" asked Pansy. The look of anger seemed to radiate from her. Then, just as the lady in white had done, she seemed to change her mind.

"I didn't know, your majesty," she purred and bowed low to the ground. She motioned for the others to follow suit.

"You are trying my patience," the lady in white seethed. "I am the White Witch, Queen of Narnia!" she proclaimed. "Now answer my question once and for all! Are you, or are you not, human?"

"Of course we are," Draco said. He stood up straight and looked the White Witch in her eyes, but for whatever reason, he quickly looked down again.

"You poor dears, you all must be cold. Come upon my sledge and I'll warm you up some and we can chat," she said, gesturing to her sleigh.

Neither Draco nor Pansy wanted to, but how could you refuse a queen? They slowly stepped up onto the sleigh and sat down. As soon as Crabbe and Goyle got within reach of the sleigh however, the White Witch glared at them severely.

"Would you like some warm tea?" she asked the two.

"Oh, thank you, your majesty," Pansy purred again.

The White Witch took out a very small copper bottle, and holding her arm out, she poured two drops, both turning into two warm mugs of tea the instant they touched the snow. The dwarf handed the two mugs to Draco and Pansy.

"And what would you two children like to eat?" she inquired.

"Warm cinnamon rolls," Pansy answered delightedly.

Without waiting for Draco to reply, the witch poured two more drops from her copper bottle, and seconds later, a silver plate holding two warm cinnamon rolls appeared on the white ground. The dwarf handed the plate to the two Hogwarts students.

"Is there another one of you?" she asked Pansy.

"Another one of me?" Pansy asked. "What do you mean your majesty?"

"Is there another Daughter of Eve with you?"

"Daughter of Eve?" Pansy asked confused. Then a light popped in her head. "Oh, you mean another girl. Yes, there is."

"There is?" Draco asked, taken aback.

"Yes, the footprints we were following," Pansy hissed under breath.

"Oh, them."

"And where, pray, are "them"?" asked the White Witch.

"We don't know. We were following their footprints when we met you, you majesty," Pansy said conversationally.

"Then you better be off finding them," the White Witch said, crossly. Then remembering her manors she said more cheerfully, "For you should bring the others to me."

"Bring them to you?" asked Draco. "Why?"

"Don't you get annoyed by them? Angered at the way they treat you? Surely you must feel more superior to them," she cooed.

"Of course we are. The others are always trying to get us into trouble," Draco sneered.

"Well," the White Witch said, "if you bring them to me, you will never have to worry about them again. If you want, they can be your servants, and you two, can be my prince and princess."

"Prince and princess?" Pansy asked, a smile crossing her face. "Do you not have an heir to the throne?"

"Oh no, for I have no children and I will not be around forever you know."

"And you'll let us be your heir," Draco asked, "just like that?"

"Provided you find the others and bring them back to me."

"That won't be hard," purred Pansy.

"Good." Then she pointed to two little hills. "Go between those two little hills and you will find my castle." She gestured for Draco and Pansy to step out of the sleigh. "I expect to be seeing you soon." And with that, the little dwarf pulled out his whip and with a crack, the two reindeer started on their way along the snowy path.

**If you review, Aslan won't eat you, so you better review. **


	5. Under the Dam

**(This is in multiple POVs. Note the previous for the disclaimers. And now on with the show!)**

**Chapter 5 Under the Dam**

"We must stay calm," shrilled Mrs. Beaver. "Now, I know we've gone over this, but it's important to know when he left."

"All too true, my dear," puffed up Mr. Beaver.

"Was he here when we were talking about Aslan?" asked Mr. Winkle. His brown hair was all puffed out, trying to keep the warmth in and the cold out. Ron glared at him. Harry, Ron, nor Hermione had coats or fur or nice warm hair covering their whole body.

"I don't think so," Peter replied.

"Yes he was," Lucy said.

"He asked if Aslan could be turned into stone," finished Hermione.

"Just what that dirt bag would ask," Peter said through gritted teeth. He put his arms on Lucy's shoulders and hugged her tight.

"Was he here when I said the prophecy, the rhymes?"

Mr. Winkle looked grave as he spoke, "More importantly, was he here when Mr. Beaver talked about where we were to meet Aslan?"

Everyone looked at each other, but no one could remember. When had Edmund left? And how much did he know?

DG

"Oh, this is hopeless," whined Draco. The four of them were trudging through snow drifts and around huge trees covered in snow and ice.

"Stop complaining, Draco. The footprints lead to that dam over there." Pansy marched as the leader, analyzing every print in the snow and deciding which way they would lead. Draco had to hand it to her, she knew how to navigate quite well through a forest she had never heard of before, much less been in.

"I'm hungry," bleated Goyle. Crabbe nodded his head in agreement.

"We can eat our fill when we're at the castle."

"That could take months, years even," Goyle tried to emphasize his point by waving his arms and wiggling his chubby fingers.

"Get a grip," barked Pansy. "It won't take nearly _that_ long. Maybe a couple more hours at the most. I think we're gaining on them."

However, when the foursome arrived at the dam, the tracks leading into it were jumbled with tracks that led away and these tracks had more prints. Not only were there humans, or the small mouse-like tracks that seemed to lead them to this dam, but also two new prints. Pansy thought it was probably two beavers given the circumstances.

"Ok, smart one. Now what?" sneered Draco, one of his evil little grins on his face.

"We continue to follow them, of course," came her reply.

"This is a huge dam, the biggest I've ever seen," commented Goyle.

"Maybe they're in there," suggested Draco, and without another word, he had climbed into the dam and disappeared.

Once inside, he gasped. A table, chairs, paintings, a kitchen area, rugs, and more rooms all existed inside the beaver's dam. He looked at the table. Mugs halfway full of room temperature tea, a basket full of plastic fruit, and scented candles that cast flickering shadows upon the stick walls all were present.

"Pansy," he said weakly.

"Draco," she replied.

They both stared at the sight before them. Yes, in their world people could turn into animals, horses had wings and/or horns, giants still roamed free, dragons breathed fire, and You-Know-Who was the most evil of all Dark Wizards, but beavers that lived like humans, now that just didn't happen.

"Do you think," started Pansy, "you know, that these beavers are actually humans?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead he ducked down and entered the adjacent room. Seconds later they heard him call, "No one is here. The place is empty."

"Well then, c'mon. We've got to follow the footprints." Pansy led them outside. Moments later, her adventurous face turned into one of confusion.

"What is it?"

"Draco, the footprints stop," she pointed to the last footprint, "and they go back to the dam."

"But I told you, there's no one there."

"There has to be. It's not like they can apperate. They're too young."

The four of them climbed back into the Beaver's home and looked thoroughly throughout the whole dam, but no matter how hard they looked, no one was there to find.

"Draco," whispered Pansy, looking alarmed.

Draco looked up.

"Do you hear that?" Draco shook his head.

Pansy looked out the round little window in the living room. She put one hand to her mouth.

Draco looked through the window. His jaw went slack; his eyes bulged.

"What do we do?" Pansy asked.

"What's wrong?" gulped Goyle. "What's out there?"

"Wolves," Draco replied, "a whole pack of wolves."

HG

"Shh!" shushed Mr. Beaver franticly. "We're almost there, just a little farther."

"Did you hear that?" Harry whispered. Everyone stopped and listened.

"Oh no," gasped Mrs. Beaver. "Someone is in the dam, they're here!"

"SHH!"

"Do you know where you're even going?" asked Mr. Winkle.

"Of course I do," Mr. Beaver said crossly. "I'm the one who built these tunnels. I haven't had the time to finish all of them quite yet, but one is done. No one will think that we have tunnels under our dam."

"Then why does this nook seem familiar?"

"It's a nook! They all look familiar."

"They don't normally all have the initials "Ms. B hearts Mr. B", do they?"

"Maybe they do!"

"Shh!" Peter hissed.

"Didn't you bring the map?" Mrs. Beaver asked.

"There wasn't room. I only have two hands and one has the lantern and the other my pipe!"

"Wait," Ron gulped. "If we don't have the map, will they?" He looked at Harry and Hermione. Peter clutched Lucy's hand tighter and Susan glared at Mr. Beaver.

"How could you forget the map?" yelled Mrs. Beaver.

"SHH!" came eight voices.

DG

"What's this?" asked Draco. He picked up a piece of paper with lines drawn all over it.

"It looks like a map," Pansy whispered. "And how will that help us escape the wolves? They're coming for the dam, they're almost here."

"Because if this is what I think it is, we have an escape."

"Where?" Pansy's voice was becoming higher and higher.

"Under."

"What?"

"Under. The dam has tunnels under it. All we need to do is find the entrance."

"We better hurry," Goyle said in a choked voice, "cuz they're here."

HG

"Haha!" cried Mr. Beaver. "I told you I knew where we were going." Mr. Beaver climbed up a little ladder and unlatched the trap door above. Quickly he shut it and climbed back down.

"Why aren't you going up and out?" Hermione asked.

"Well, there are lots of tunnels…"

"Mr. Beaver!" squealed Mr. Winkle. "Where does that lead to?"

Mr. Beaver looked miserable. "The closet, where we entered."

DG

"What was that?" whispered Pansy. They had been looking everywhere for the entrance to the hidden tunnels. But so far, no luck.

"The closet, quick!" cried Draco, running to the closet and flinging open the door.

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks. The front door had just been smashed to the ground. A loud howl sounded and barks echoed.

"They're in," gasped Pansy.

Draco kicked over the rug on the ground to reveal a trap door.

"Here, in here!" He ushered the three in and followed after them, placing the rug on top of the trap door and closing it as quiet and perfect as he could.

"What's wrong, Pansy?" Draco breathed.

"I just heard something. Something running."

"That's them! That has to be Harry and his stupid little gang! C'mon!"

They ran through the tunnel, Draco in the lead holding a lantern that Pansy had nicked. The glow of the flame made it hard to differentiate the different tunnels. Draco held the map close to the light and charged through, weaving this way and that.

A loud bang made them stop and a long howl followed.

"They're in the tunnel," Pansy cried. "They're in the tunnel!"

HG

Mr. Beaver stopped dead in his tracks as the long howl echoed throughout the tunnels. They exchanged a quick glance with everyone and continued on their way.

"Here it is!" Mr. Beaver said excitedly.

"This is another tunnel," Susan said blankly.

"Not just another tunnel, it's the last tunnel, the tunnel to the exit!"

"If this leads to the closet again, I swear I'll turn you into a fur coat," mumbled Ron under his breath.

**Will Mr. Beaver lead them to the right trap door or will they end up in the closet again? What about Draco and Pansy? Will they escape the Secret Police and turn Harry and his gang over to the White Witch? **

**Review, Review, Review! That's the way. If you review, I'll buy you a sleigh. Ok, maybe not, but it doesn't hurt to review.**


	6. Statues

**(Nothing belongs to me…la lee la lee la….)**

**Chapter 6 Statues**

Mr. Beaver ran down the tunnel and climbed up the rickety ladder. He paused before he opened the trap door. Mrs. Beaver, Susan and Hermione, Harry and Ron all had their fingers crossed. No one breathed. Mr. Beaver slowly opened up the trap door.

"Haha!" came his cry of victory. "I told you I knew where we were going."

With that, he practically jumped out of the tunnel and helped Mrs. Beaver up. Lucy, Peter, and then Ron followed the Beavers up first. Harry, Hermione, Susan, and then Mr. Winkle were on their way when they heard a crashing sound like something very solid falling apart.

"Lucy!" Peter cried, running over to help her up. Ron just stood there. Mrs. Beaver looked like she was going to throw up.

Lucy slowly got to her feet and looked at the statue before her, nearly completely shattered. Together, the statue would have been of a badger.

"Bloody Hell," commented Ron. There were four more statues, all posed with arms outstretched or covering their head as if someone or something were to hit them.

"Oh no!" gasped Mrs. Beaver, clinging to her husband. "Not Mr. Badger."

Looking around, the nine of them saw statues of a bear, two meerkats, and a gigantic rat, almost three feet tall.

"What's with all these statues?" Ron asked.

"They're like Mr. Tumnus is now," Lucy whispered, "stone."

"Wait, these were all _real_?" Ron looked at Lucy incredulously. Lucy nodded in response. Ron's gaze landed on the Beavers, Mr. Beaver holding his wife.

"So, you mean that, you know," Ron stammered, "that they're, um…dead?"

"RONALD!" hissed Hermione, clearly shocked that he would dare utter the word, not to mention think it. "I bet if you were at a funeral you would laugh."

"Well, this one time at my Great Uncle Bilbus's…" Ron quickly stopped short at the death glare Hermione shot at him.

"I suppose this would be a bad time to bring this up," started Susan, "but I hear sleigh bells."

DM

"This has got to lead somewhere," mumbled Draco, trying to get the light of the lantern on the map in his hands. "I think we take this turn right here."

"How much farther," breathed Goyle heavily. "Can't we stop for a short break?"

"What, and have those foul looking wolves eat us?" Pansy asked sarcastically. "I don't think so."

The four of them paused again as a wolf's cry echoed throughout the tunnels, resounding in their brains and making them all jump.

"We gotta hurry," Draco whispered. "C'mon."

No one could agree more and they ran off in the tunnel Draco had pointed out. Within a minute the four came upon a short rickety ladder. Draco grinned, and shoving the lantern into Crabbe's hands, he started to climb. He gently pushed up the trap door and peaked out.

"Look what I see," Draco drawled, stepping out of the tunnels and onto the cold frozen land above.

Crabbe and Goyle started pushing and shoving each other to get to the ladder fist, completely ignoring Pansy's protests and foul language. Crabbe finally reached the ladder and started to climb. He wasn't on the fourth step yet when Goyle shook the almost broken ladder and Crabbe fell hard on the dirt floor.

Just as Goyle was about to step onto the ladder Pansy shoved him aside and was out of the tunnels before you could say You-Know-Who. As soon as the ladder was free for use another howl sounded, but this time it was answered by multiple piercing cries.

"Get up here," Draco urged. "They're almost to that tunnel!"

Goyle grabbed hold of the ladder and kicked his companion away. Before he was at the top, Crabbe started to climb. When both boys were up, Draco slammed the trap door. Looking around for something to keep the trap door closed, he tried to go over to the statue of the bear. It wouldn't budge, and the rest were too light.

"We haven't got time!" came Pansy's frantic voice from behind him. "They're almost here!"

Dragging Draco, she and the other two ran into a cluster of pine and birch trees. They zigzagged through rocks the size of Crabbe, who was slightly bigger than Goyle in comparison, and fallen branches and roots that poked up through the ground.

They entered a clearing at a gallop and raced all the way through and into the forest on the other side. The Hogwartians didn't stop until they were a good ways into the forest.

"Why, excuse me," squawked an offended vice.

Panting hard, the foursome looked down to where the voice came from. All they saw was a small goose wearing an orange scarf and purple earmuffs.

"What…no…"

"Draco, you don't see…"

"Why is there a goose with winter gear on?" asked Crabbe.

Draco, Pansy, and Goyle gawked at him, then turned their attention back on the annoyed goose and gawked at him too.

"What? You never seen a goose before? Huh!" The goose puffed out his chest and flapped his wings meaningfully.

"And why does it talk?" Crabbe was met with four pairs of glairing eyes.

"You are an idiot. You should really go back to bed, that you should," the goose spat. "How arrogant you two feeted creatures you are. And impolite. Can't you see I'm on a stroll?"

"Oh, dear," Pansy said, recovering from the shock of a talking goose wearing a scarf and earmuffs. "We didn't mean to bother you. We were just running through," she looked around, "these lovely woods."

The goose huffed. "Lovely woods eh? These are treacherous woods! Horrendous woods! Inescapable woods!" The goose leaned its head closer to the humans and whispered, "And the trees, they don't make it any better. You best be keeping your dissing tongues to a minimum when you're with them. They have ears you know."

"The trees?" Draco whispered back.

The goose sighed, "You're worse than the chipmunks! They even have the sense not to go wandering around the woods and shouting insults about the _queen_." The goose glared at them. "You do know of her don't you?" They nodded. "Good, so I don't have to peck the brains back into your fuzzy little heads now do I."

The goose shook his head and raised his right wing as in farewell and started waddling away, all the while mumbling insults left and right about the White Witch.

"That was," tried Draco, "er, a little odd."

Another howl resounded in the distance.

"We better go," Pansy said.

They made it to the edge of the forest in a few atrocious minutes. Pansy and Crabbe sat down on another huge rock. Draco leaned against it, looking into the darkening distance. Goyle stood by Crabbe, chatting.

"Two little hills," he mumbled. "Pansy, should we?"

Pansy looked up. Than seeing what Draco was looking at, said, "Yes, I think it would be best."

To the sixth years, it seemed to take centuries, but in reality, it only took a couple of hours until they stood in-between the two little hills the White Witch had told them about.

There, in the middle of the hills, right across a small river stood the witch's castle. It was made out of little towers with pointy long spires on top. With the moon shinning bright, every aspect of the castle was uncovered or put into deep shadow. The very appearance of the castle frightened them, but no one showed it in fear of being mocked, and respectfully so.

"Maybe we should turn back," murmured Goyle.

"Turn back?" puffed up Pansy. "We'd be eaten alive by those brutes. I'm sure they can talk too."

Without another word, Pansy grabbed Draco's hand and the two of them marched over the small bridge and onwards to the castle. Once there came the challenge of finding the entrance. The foursome had to walk all the way to the far side of the castle. There was a huge arc, and the giant fence stood open, as if tempting anyone to enter.

"I bet Snape would love this place," mumbled Goyle, following his three companions through the gate and into the courtyard.

"Run!" shouted Draco, heading for cover, but Pansy grabbed him before anyone else could make a fuss.

"Draco," she hissed. "It's just a statue. The lion isn't real."

"Oh," he blushed.

But looking around, the whole courtyard was filled with statues. Most were on their knees with their arms trying to shield themselves from something. As the moonlight guided them, they saw how delicate and masterly carved they were. Every little detail was perfect.

A thought suddenly crept up to Pansy. "Oh," she gasped. "These aren't statues."

"What do you mean?" Draco whispered, intimidated by the darkness. "Of course they are. What else would these stone creatures be?"

"They're stone now, but," she tried finding the right word before moving on, "they were once alive."

"How do you mean?"

"Look," she said pointing to a hippogriff. "It's rearing on its hind legs as if it were falling backwards. Why would anyone create a statue falling backwards when it's supposed to be a beautiful winged beast?"

"Still not convinced."

"Then look there," she pointed closer to the castle. Four geese were placed by each other, one wearing calashes and another holding an umbrella as if fending off a nasty fiend.

A chill ran up and down their spines. No one broke the deafening silence, not even the crunch of the snow sounded as they made their way to the castle door.

As the gleam of the moonlight shone upon the silver door leading into the castle, they made their way closer and closer. A wolf lay in front of it, as if guarding the door. Seeing as though everything else in the courtyard was stone, the wolf must be too.

Pansy gripped Draco's hand tighter in hers. Instead of going around the wolf, they went to go over it. Just as their left feet was right above the wolf, the wolf leapt up with a fierce growl.

"Who are you?" Then looking at the four children the wolf seemed to relax. His tail switched stiffly in time to Draco's breathing. "Oh, Sons and Daughters of Adam out on a midnight stroll again, I see. What is your business here?"

"If you please sir," began Draco in a trembling voice, "we're here to see the Queen of Narnia."

"Very well," grinned, if that's even possible for a wolf, Maugrim, the wolf. "You're lucky that Her Majesty is so fond of your kind, just like that other little Son of Adam. Follow me," and he led them into the castle and out of the moonlit sky.

**Please review. Reviewing will make Maugrim dance the salsa with Ron.**


	7. Sleigh Bells

**(The only rights I have are mentioned in the Constitution.)**

**Chapter 7 Sleigh Bells**

The castle was huge, dark, and very cold. Everything seemed to be made out of ice, the walls, the doors, even the throne, on which sat Her Majesty. Maugrim had led them into the castle, through door after door, dark hallway after dark hallway, up stairs until finally the four sixth years were left standing outside a majestic two-door entrance while the wolf asked permission for them to enter.

But now they were inside the very room the Witch of Narnia sat, holding her wand with stiff fingers and an expression of feigned interest, but it wasn't hard to tell she was livid and impatient. Her dark eyes scanned the small group.

"And where are the others?" she asked, politely, her fierce gaze slowly melting away.

"We, we couldn't find them," Draco quivered, "Your Majesty."

"Couldn't find them?" the White Witch cooed. "Is it so hard to find your kind? Can you not simply follow the footprints in the snow?"

"We, we tried, but then they went into the dam and never came out again," Draco explained.

He was met with a dark, feverous glare. The witch stood up, her royal furs curled all around her, making her look like a fuzzy icicle.

"Then why did you return to me!" she screamed. "Did I not tell you to return _with_ the other Sons and Daughters of Adam?"

"But Your Majesty, the wolves," Pansy tried, but was cut off.

"You would have been far better off with the wolves," the queen said darkly.

Draco stepped forward and hissed, "Then give us a second chance."

Without hesitation, the witch slapped him hard on the cheek, causing him to nearly fall to the floor.

"How dare you talk to me like that! How dare you!" she screeched. "I don't give second chances!"

Her tone was cold when she spoke, but it held power, fear, and a sense of finality. "Take them away, Maugrim."

With a sly grin, Maugrim nipped at their feet until they were rounded in a tight huddle, before leading them out of Her Majesty's presence.

"I'll tell my father on her," mumbled Draco.

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Maugrim leapt to him, crushing him against the cold, glass-like wall.

"You dare talk ill of Her Majesty? The Queen of Narnia?" he howled. "For that, you shall pay."

"Let him go," commanded a cold familiar voice.

The four students looked back down the hallway to see the White Witch standing only feet away, her wand dangling from her fingers.

"But Your Majesty..."

"Let him go."

Maugrim did as he was told, then waited for another command.

"Let's continue, now shall we?" she asked in a pleasant voice.

"We shall," sneered the wolf, pushing Draco into the threesome.

It took only minutes before they were deep under the castle. Here it was extremely cold. Pansy and Draco clung to each other, but not just for warmth. When they stopped, it was in front of a small rounded door. The witch only had to wave her wand and it opened. Maugrim pushed them inside.

Once in, the foursome looked around. There wasn't much to see except chains and bars, and cells. It was a dungeon.

"You Maj..."

"Be silent!" she yelled at Draco. "As I said before, I do not give second chances. But you might be of use to me yet."

With a small nod, Maugrim herded them into a cell that just opened by a dwarf that none of the children had noticed.

"A small demonstration might be nice," the queen commented conversationally. "You," she pointed to the dwarf, "bring me the fawn. And you," she motioned for Maugrim, "bring me the other Son of Adam."

In a few seconds, a small, black haired boy was dragged out of a cell and thrown to the ground roughly. Soon after came the fawn. He was wearing a red scarf around his neck. He fell to the ground harshly and looked up before the queen.

"Do you know why you are here?" asked the queen.

"Yes. Because I believe in a free Narnia," he gasped, trying to sit up straight and tall.

"No. You are here because he," she pointed to the blacked haired boy, "snitched on you, and for sweets might I add.

"I will ask you a question, and if you answer correctly, it just might save your miserable wretched life." She looked down upon the fawn. "Where are the Beavers? And more importantly, where are the Sons and Daughters of Adam?"

"I don't know."

"And if you did?"

"I wouldn't tell you."

The White Witch smiled a truly wicked smile. "Well, if you didn't know, that was the wrong answer," she said sweetly. "And for your crimes, you must pay." She raised her wand high above her head, and as the wand came down, the fawn was turned into stone.

Draco nearly jumped back into Goyle with the shock. Pansy clung tighter to him, eyes wide, heart thumping wildly.

"Let's do pray that you," she directed her gaze to the five children in the room, "would do much better." With a wave of her wand, she left the dungeon.

The fawn was hauled away and the black haired boy shoved into the same cell as the others. When the doors finally closed and they were alone with only the dwarf, Draco had the nerve to speak.

"Who are you?"

"Edmund. My name's Edmund," the black haired boy said solemnly. "Who are you?"

"Draco Malfoy," Draco drawled. "And this is Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle." He pointed out each one in turn. "Is there anything to eat in this joint?"

"Only if you like frozen milk," Edmund said, kicking over a mug. As Draco picked it up he could see white ice inside, milk, frozen solid.

( )

"Sleigh bells?" asked six voices at once, fear clearly embedded within. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked puzzled.

"What is wrong with sleigh bells?" Hermione asked.

Susan answered, "The White Witch, she rides in a sleigh pulled by reindeer and the reindeer wear bells. The White Witch is coming!"

"What will she do with us?" Ron asked.

"Haven't you been listening?" asked Mr. Beaver. "She'll kill ya!"

"Oh yeah."

Without hesitation, Mr. Beaver and Mr. Winkle popped into action.

"I'll lead; I know this land more than any of you. Follow close behind me," Mr. Beaver said.

"And I'll bring up the rear," Mr. Winkle huffed.

Without further ado, they ran, the sleigh bells never far from their ears.

They ran through the forest, winding this way and that through trees, boulders, and patches of ice. They raced up hills and down into valleys, past little cottages, and around small little lakes, the sleigh bells never far behind.

"Mr. Beaver!" panted Mrs. Beaver, "where are we going?"

"There," he puffed, pointing towards nothing in particular that anyone could see.

Soon, however, the destination was known as Mr. Beaver skidded to a stop.

"Everyone, inside, quick." Everyone scampered inside, Mr. Winkle the last being that he and Mr. Beaver erased their prints as far as they dared.

The bells got louder, and they now heard the stampeding of hooves. The snow fell away from the small cave's entrance with each step.

Looking around, Ron noticed that the cave would be easy to see if you peered down from the rock it was by. Dead branches were the only thing covering the small hole in the ground, the snow slightly on top of them slowly falling off as the bells came ever near.

Finally, they stopped. Everyone could hear the panting of the reindeers and the soft crunch as feet walked around, trying to find a trace of the humans. Suddenly the feet were right in front of them, facing away from the rock.

Hermione, Susan, and Mrs. Beaver put their hands to their mouths, trying not to let a gasp or scream escape.

Than as if struck by a brilliant idea, the feet slowly turned to face the cave.

**Please Review. I love the feedback and to know people are actually reading this. Negative feedback is just as good as positive, but usually it helps the story out too. **

**Besides, if you don't review, you will be forced to eat frozen milk. Ewww**


	8. The Return of Hope

**(Nothing do I own that you knew before reading this fanfic.)**

**Chapter 8 The Return of Hope**

"BOO!"

Screams erupted from the small hole by the rock, loud terrified screams. Peter clung to Lucy, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were in the tightest embrace imaginable for neither could breathe, Ron and Harry seemed to be one person, while Susan and Hermione became one mangled glob. Mr. Winkle wasn't clinging to anyone; instead he had jumped nearly a mile high and came down with a soft thud.

"Oh dear," said the White Witch, only it didn't sound like her at all, not that the Hogwarts students knew what she sounded like. However, the voice was deep and cheerful, the sound coming from the gut and swirling around until it was made into music as soon as it escaped the lips and floated joyously into the world.

"You're not her," nearly screamed Mrs. Beaver hysterically, her eyes wide, her grip not loosening from around her husband's neck.

"Father Christmas!" Lucy shouted, jumping up and out of the hole.

"Heh," snorted Ron, "he does kinda look like garden gnomes, only fatter and much easier to look at."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What?" asked Ron, "He does, disregarding the fact he bears gifts during the holidays of course."

"Of course it's me, who else would be chasing you throughout half of Narnia during winter?" Father Christmas snarled. "Why you guys still in that hole?"

The group filed out. Father Christmas walked over to his sleigh. There were nine reindeer hitched to the sleigh, the leader having a very shiny red nose. When Father Christmas came back he was hauling a rather large brown bag that was patched up here and there.

"As Weasley pointed out, I come bearing gifts."

"You know my name?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Of course I do, Ronald. Who do you think I am? The mayor? I'm Saint Nick!"

"But it's not Christmas time," Susan said confused.

"I'm Father Christmas! I can bring gifts whenever I choose to!"

"Then why don't you bring them more often?" Lucy asked.

"Because I haven't chosen to!

"Confounded bustards!" Father Christmas bellowed. "I come to give you gifts of importance and all you can do is ask me pitiful questions?"

"One last question," began Peter. "I thought ever since the White Witch it has always been winter but never Christmas? How then can you be here?"

"The White Witch's power is beginning to die," Mr. Winkle said. "Aslan has returned!"

"Before we get too sidetracked with silly questions," Ron started, "weren't you going to do something with the presents?"

"Presents?" puffed Father Christmas. "Oh yes, gifts!" and the jolly voice came back to the fat man, the pale red covering his cheeks and nose darkening as his mood lifted.

"For you, Mrs. Beaver, I give you these two splendid pot holders. Mrs. Clause made them by hand. She gets so bored up there all alone; she thought she would do something productive besides chasing out the Abominable Snow Monster." He handed her the most two beautiful pot holders anyone had ever seen. "No matter how hot that oven gets, as longs as you wear those, you will never burn your hands, er paws again."

"And for you, Mr. Beaver, I have finished the tunnels under your damn, but I do not think you will ever need them again. Since that won't matter, I decided to fix your dam up. Everything is as good as new; no signs of a break-in."

"Th-th-th…" was all Mr. Beaver could stutter, but the thank you was there just as if he had spoken it.

"Peter, Son of Adam, these are your gifts, but be warned. These are not toys, but tools." With that, Father Christmas brought out a silver shield with a bright red lion across it. Along with the shield he gave Peter a sword, just the right weight for him, along with a sheath and sword belt. The sword hilt was of gold. "The hour draws near when you will need them." He then turned to Susan.

"Susan, Eve's Daughter, these are for you." He handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a small ivory horn. "Use them wisely, for I do not intend you to fight in any battle, but the arrows never miss their target. When you blow this horn," he gestured to the small horn in her hands, "help of some kind will come, no matter where you are."

"Lucy, Daughter of Eve, I give you these," and he handed her a small diamond bottle, though it looked like glass, and a small dagger. "The bottle will cure anyone, whether it be you or a friend, if they become injured. You only need a few drops to do the trick. The dagger is only to defend yourself in great peril, for you also are not meant to fight any battles."

"Harry, Adam's Son, these shall help you greatly in battle." He gave Harry a shield that looked just like Peter's and a felt medieval flail. Harry's green eyes widened in shock. He was now holding a sinister grey weapon. Its handle was easy to grip and a chain sprouted off the tip. A huge grey ball hung at the end, completely surrounded by spikes over an inch high. "Not all things are nice and pretty especially during war. You will see many things and you will fight many foes." As Harry lifted up is flail, he was surprised how light it was. He saw Father Christmas turn to Hermione.

"Hermione, Eve's Daughter, your gift is this." He brought out an early medieval crossbow with a quiver of arrows. The crossbow weighed no more than three pounds and had a golden finish. The string on the bow was made of hemp and the bow itself was of wood and horn. "These too," he pointed towards Hermione's arrows, "do not easily miss. Use with great care and do not be too willing to go into battle."

"And for you, Ronald, Son of Adam, I present you with this," as he spoke he revealed a Viking Axe Tomahawk. Ron gripped the firm wooden handle and touched the slight curve of the iron blade.

"Um, Sir, I think this blade is dull," Ron said disappointedly.

"It is only dull for you, but for your enemies it will not seem so dull. Use it well, for you were meant to go into battle, and maybe even lead a charge." Ron gulped. Facing Aragog was one thing, but Aragog didn't have swords or crossbows or axes, just fangs and creepy legs. He didn't know which he'd rather face. Then he smiled suddenly. "Well, I have always wanted a tomahawk."

Then facing the whole group, Father Christmas said, "The time of the White Witch is over and the time for Narnia to blossom and bloom by the very breath of Aslan has come. Goodbye and I wish you all well." With a small wink, Father Christmas walked back to his sleigh and with a crack of his whip he rose into the air, the Red-Nosed Reindeer leading the way.

( )

"We have to get out of here," whispered Draco. Pansy and Edmund nodded. "Any ideas?"

"We could, er…" Edmund trailed off, not helping in the least.

"Over power him," Pansy said, gesturing towards the dwarf. "There's five of us and one of him."

"One problem," Edmund interrupted, "He's out there, and we're in _here_."

"Get him over here," Goyle said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, smart one," Pansy said sarcastically, "how are we supposed to do that? Just say, hey, Mr. Dwarf, come over here so we can get out? No."

"No, but we could get him over here and once he's here, just get him close enough to the bars so we can reach him." Edmund said, a plan forming in his head. "The bars are big enough to fit our whole arm through. We could always strangle him you know."

"That isn't all that bad," Draco commented. "I like the way you think."

"So how are we going to get him over here?" Pansy asked.

"I have a feeling it won't be too hard," Edmund smiled. "Look," he nodded his head towards the dwarf, "he's curious."

True enough, the dwarf was ever so slowly inching closer and closer to their cell. Although he was trying to act inconspicuous, it was all too obvious. Every time he moved, the keys would jingle and he would slap his hand down upon them to silence them, creating a scene and a funny one if that. The five children tried to muffle their laughter as the dwarf drew near. But they didn't stop whispering to each other so as to encourage the dwarf's curiosity.

Nearly ten minutes passed before the dwarf was close enough to go into action.

"You know," Pansy said loud enough for the dwarf to hear, "the secret to the Cave of Riches is near here."

"You don't say," Edmund commented, keeping an eye on the dwarf. "I hear it holds more than any man…or dwarf could imagine."

The dwarf was almost touching the bars.

"Yes, riches untold a thousand times over," Draco drawled. "They say that the entrance is guarded by goblins, but that's a myth. There's nothing guarding it anymore. Why, anyone could just walk right up to it and get their hands on all that gold."

"Gold?" asked a gruff voice. The five captives looked at the dwarf who had his nose between the bars. "Did someone say gold?"

"Yes," snorted Pansy, her nose in the air with disgust.

"Where?"

"Why, the Cave of Riches of course," Edmund said. Casually he and Draco moved closer to the dwarf, their arms across their chest.

"Why haven't I heard of it, eh?"

"You haven't heard of it?" three voices sounded at once. The dwarf just shook his head, the keys jingling ever so softly.

"Well, it's not far from here," Draco continued. By now the dwarf was almost inside, his whole thick body pressed against the bars. "Well, Ed," Draco said carelessly, "I think now is a good time to tell him." And with that, the two boys lunged at the dwarf who was so surprised he didn't have time to yell or jump back.

The two boys pinned him against the cell, Edmund grabbing his beard and Draco with his arm around the dwarf's neck. Draco squeezed the dwarf's neck until he turned a shade of blue. Seeing as he couldn't make a fuss even if he wanted to, Edmund let go of the beard. As soon as Edmund had released the beard, Draco pushed the almost passed out dwarf into one of the bars and the dwarf fell limply to the ground.

"Why didn't you just bash him in to start out with?" Goyle asked.

"Because," Draco began irritably as he grabbed the keys, "if you had been listening you would know that a dwarf could have easily gotten away. They're surprisingly strong. We needed him quiet and almost dead."

"You killed him!" Goyle said in alarm.

"No," Edmund almost laughed. "He's out cold, but not dead. Though I'm not much sure what use he is alive."

Minutes later, Draco tried the eleventh key but the lock still wouldn't open. Letting out a string of foul language he tried the twelfth then thirteenth. Everyone grinned as the door swung open.

"Who would have thought the unlucky number would be so helpful," Edmund said gleefully.

"We aren't done yet," Pansy warned. "We still have the whole castle to escape from." They looked down the winding corridors, all going somewhere different yet they looked all the same.

"We're doomed," Goyle said in despair.

"Not if this door leads out," Edmund smiled. "But we have to find the right key."

"Count to thirteen again," Goyle prompted.

"One, two, three, four…" Finally when the number thirteen was said and the key thrust into the door, the lock opened. After high-fives they slowly entered the darkness.

( )

"We almost there?" asked Ron. The group had been hastily walking ever since Father Christmas had left. They were to meet Aslan at the Round Table, quite a few miles away still.

It was hard going at the present for the snow was melting at an alarming pace and as it melted came the slush and gigantic puddles. But even so, flowers popped up and the trees turned into green giants. A warm breeze blew gently along, warming up the group, even the threesome without jackets.

Just as Mrs. Beaver had picked up a bunch of lovely daisies and thrown them all about while singing, "Spring, Spring, oh what a marvelous thing," all the joy passed. In front of them was a river, about seventy feet across. The ice was still solid, but they had no way of knowing for how long.

"Isn't there any other way?" Hermione asked.

"Not for miles," answered Mr. Beaver. "We best be crossing. Spring won't wait."

"I sure hope the ice does," Ron mumbled. He gripped his tomahawk tight in his hands and put a foot on the thawing ice.

**Sorry that this took a small while updating. Please review. They make me feel like this isn't a waste of time. So yeah, please review and I'll mentally send you a cookie.**

***huggles***


	9. The Crossing

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 9 The Crossing**

"Where are we?" Goyle whispered.

"Shut up." Draco hissed.

The five of them were groping around in the dark, trying to find a way out. After nearly three minutes in the small black room Edmund gave a cry of surprise.

"Aha! A door!"

"Open it!" came Pany's voice.

"I'm trying to, but none of the keys work."

"Where are you?" Draco drawled. "I'll help."

"Can't you hear me? Just follow my voice and the keys."

The two boys worked on the door, trying every key, for nearly five minutes. Exasperated, Edmund slumped down and Draco leaned against the door.

"We're doomed," mumbled Edmund.

Pansy found her way over to the door after tripping over Edmund.

"Are you sure you tried every key?" she asked.

"Yeah," sighed Draco. "Give them to her, Ed. Maybe she can find one that we didn't try."

Edmund handed over the keys.

Just as she was grabbing for the keys, the door swung open and a soft dim light flooded the room.

"How did you do that?" asked Edmund jumping up.

Pansy glared at the two boys. "All I did was turn the knob you morons!"

"Oh," Draco and Edmund said together.

"Didn't you try the knob?"

"No," Draco said defensively, "none of the keys fit."

Pansy rolled her eyes and walked into the lit room, the four boys following her.

Just as soon as Draco had closed the door another one opened. A cold wind and voices came tumbling in. The five children jumped into the walls, barely daring to breath.

"Her Majesty isn't gunna be happy bout this," came a high male voice.

"That's why you're going to tell her," replied a deep voice.

"Oh, no I won't," came the first voice. "Last time I told her bad news I was almost turned to stone. No, no, I think you're going to tell her."

"Close the door," the deep voice commanded. The cold wind stopped abruptly as the door shut. "There's only one way to solve this dilemma. Rock, Paper, Scissors."

"Two out of three."

Then together, "Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

"Scissors beat paper, punk," the second voice said.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

"Aha! One to one!" cried the fist voice.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

"Dynamite!"

"That's not fair!" yelled the first voice. "You didn't say we could use dynamite!"

"Fine, fine, but I'm still not telling her."

"I know! We can get Tumnil to tell her. He'll do it!" Another door opened not a foot away from Pansy, and the two voices went inside.

"I like your thinking, Wurning. Now, where is he?"

"Guarding the prisoners."

The door closed.

"Good news," Edmund said brightly, "we know where the exit is."

"Bad news," continued Pansy, "they're going to find out we're not in the dungeon!"

"My news!" hissed Draco, "Run!"

Pansy got to the door first and opened it. Edmund ran out first followed by Goyle and Crabbe, then Draco and Pansy.

"Wait!" Pansy cried running back to the closing door. Right before she reached it the door shut. She tried the handle. "Crap, it's locked."

"What did you need?" Draco asked.

"There was a map on the floor."

"A map? Who cares about a map, Pansy! They're going to turn us into stone if they catch us!"

"A map would be beneficial to us by telling us where we are and where to hide."

"You think too much," Draco said, pushing her along. "Now c'mon."

The fivesome hadn't gone more than half a mile before the sound of wolves' howls reached their ears.

"Don't look, just run," yelled Draco to Crabbe. Crabbe hesitated, but didn't turn around. Goyle caught up with him and they took the rear, trying to keep up with Draco, Pansy, and Edmund.

"Honestly, whatever happened to our wands?" panted Pansy. "Ever since we reached this place, we haven't had our wands."

"Wands?" asked Edmund, almost out of breath. "You mean like the White Witch's wand?"

"Sort of," Pansy breathed.

"You're witches?"

"No, she's a witch, I'm a wizard," corrected Draco.

A high ear-piercing scream stopped the boys in their tracks. Pansy was face to face with a wolf. As they looked around, wolves closed in, encircling them.

"So you thought you could escape, did you?" sneered Maugrim. The other wolves snickered around them. "Lucky for the Queen, she didn't need you at all. We picked up the other Sons and Daughter's of Adam's trail along with the Beavers. You may be seeing your friends shortly." The wolves around them started to laugh, letting out low deep howls.

( )

"Oh chill out, Ron," Hermione said. Ron was at the rear of the group. He had given up trying to walk across the frozen river and now was crawling, testing the ice with his hands before moving on.

Mr. Winkle scampered to Ron. "I don't mean to rush you, but the ice isn't getting any firmer."

Harry and Peter walked back to Ron and helped him along, holding onto both of his shoulders. The pace didn't quicken by much, but it was still progress.

"We're almost there, mate," Harry said. "We've passed over half of it, just a bit more."

A howl sounded across the river, back where they had been. Many more followed. Harry, Ron, and Peter looked back over their shoulder.

"Wolves!" Ron cried, trying to run, but only ending up on the ground with Harry and Peter on top of him.

"The Secret Police!" Mr. Beaver yelled. "Hurry up, run!" Mr. Beaver turned around to see Ron and his helpers fall to the ground again. Rolling his eyes Mr. Beaver ran to them.

"What are you doing?" shrieked Mrs. Beaver.

"Help the girls along, I'll fend off the wolves!"

"But…"

"Now!" yelled Mr. Beaver. Mrs. Beaver focused on the bank closest to them and hurried off, helping the girls cross the ever melting ice.

Another attempt ended Harry, Ron, and Peter back on the ice, but this time, they were greeted with a sharp crisp sound. Looking down, Ron let out a loud gulp.

"Great, the ice, it's cracked," Ron moaned.

"Ron, grab my hand," Harry ordered. Peter and he were already standing. Ron looked back at the wolves. They were only a few yards away.

"Ron, see, the wolves are running. If they can run, we can too," Harry tired to reason with Ron. His red haired friend gulped again. Harry and Peter ran, dragging Ron with them.

The girls had just reached the bank when they all heard a loud roaring sound. Peter and Harry stopped, Ron falling to the melting ground. As Ron looked up pieces of ice disappeared and the river came to life.

"Go, go!" urged Mr. Beaver, pushing them onwards.

Picking up Ron they started running, the ice they stepped on giving way and falling into the river just as their feet left. When the ice stopped and the river began the boys came to a halt.

"Ok, you jump first, Peter," Harry said. Peter nodded. He took a few steps back, then with a running leap, he flew into the air and landed on the solid ground next to his sisters and Hermione. Mrs. Beaver and Mr. Winkle ran over to him and helped him up.

"You next," Harry told Ron.

"Naw, you go. I'll jump after. You know, it's an awful long jump."

"No it isn't," Harry said. He stepped back a few feet, then ran and jumped, a piece of ice broke off enlarging the gap. Harry came down almost in the water, but Peter and Susan pulled him out.

"Ron, jump!" Hermione yelled. The wolves were almost upon him and Mr. Beaver.

"Go," ordered Mr. Beaver.

Ron stood up. Taking a step back he started to run. Just as he was about to jump the ice fell into the river. He felt the harsh cold water hit his face. He didn't have time to hear his name being screamed from the bank as his body was flung this way and that in the angry river.

**Sorry that I didn't put this up sooner, but I was/am sick with a stupid flu and haven't been able to really do much but sleep until now.**

**If you review, Ron just might not drowned…please don't let Ron drown. He's my favorite character and I will have to turn you into stone and draw all over your face with charcoal. Muahaha**


	10. Aslan's Camp

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 10 Aslan's Camp**

Up became down, left became right, and the freezing water only became colder as the race to the surface began. Ron lashed out, trying to grab hold of anything to help him out, but nothing was there to grab. His hands only swiped the water of the river. His lungs started to protest at the absence of air. His struggle became more frantic, more desperate. Seconds drifted off into minutes, but it seemed much longer than that to Ron. As his body was sent twirling around deeper and further in the sadistic river, the precious air that had once been in his lungs left, escaping from him and turning into merciless bubbles, teasing him as they floated away.

Stabbing pain mixed in with the sharp burning pain all over his skin. His vision started blurring and darkening. Nothing he did seemed to make the slightest difference. Next to being eating alive, murdered by a spider, and being set aflame, drowning was right up there on the How-I-Don't-Want-To-Die list.

As all hope seemed lost, Ron felt a pull. He didn't care what happened as long as his death was quick. However, seconds later, his head tore away from the river's greedy clasp and crisp air entered his longs, clearing his vision.

"Ron!" squealed Hermione, running to his lifeless body as Mr. Beaver dragged him onto the opposite bank from the wolves. Hermione knelt down beside Ron, Harry, Peter, Susan, and Lucy right next to her.

Choking up water, gasping for breath, and shaking all over, Ron tried to sit up. Hermione helped him a little. Ron glared at the water that had, only seconds before, tried to claim his life.

"What the bloody hell were you tryin to do?" yelled Mr. Beaver. "If you can't swim, you shoulda told us that!"

"I can too swi…" but he was interrupted by a coughing fit which made Mrs. Beaver glare heartlessly at her husband's lack of concern.

"There, there dear," she cooed, stroking his red hair back, out of his eyes. "Now, we better get going, you traveled quite some distance down that river. But never fear, that was the direction we were going anyway," she said lightly.

"I thought we were going to follow that trial back there?" Mr. Beaver asked. He quickly shut up as another heartless glare came his way.

Helping Ron up, Harry and Peter half dragged half carried their extremely wet friend, following closely behind Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and the girls, Hermione glancing back every five minutes.

As the group walked many changes happened. The cold temperature warmed up causing the already melting snow to disappear altogether. Soon, even the puddles had gone, leaving a green trail behind them. Flowers began to bloom in all sorts of colors. Red roses, purple lilacs, white lily-on-the-valleys, and blue daffodils popped up all over the place, sending their sweet aroma into the air.

The trees grew buds and within minutes the buds had grown into luscious green leaves that swayed in the wind. The wind no longer fiercely blew cold air at them, instead a warmer, friendlier breeze took its place and round its way here and there and everywhere.

Where dark clouds had circled the sky for years, bright golden rays broke through and the thick clouds became nothing more than mere wisps in the light blue sky.

The rein of the White Witch was ending and the rule of Aslan had started. With this knowledge, the eight made their way onward towards the Stone Table.

( )

"There, that should do it," smirked Tumnil, stepping back to watch his masterpiece. The five escapees were held hostage by three trees, several thick ropes wrapped tightly around them securing them against the hard rough bark.

Draco and Edmund shared one tree while Crabbe and Goyle shared another. Pansy had her tree to herself in-between the boys. Her glare shot razors at each one in turn.

"Oh, who cares about a map, you think too much," she griped. "Oh now who wishes they had a map?"

"Um, Pansy, a map would do us no good now," retorted Edmund. "It could have been helpful _before_."

Edmund quickly quieted down as Pansy gave him a death glare.

"Quiet!" barked Maugrim, his tail twitching slightly. His ears were alert and he jumped a little with every sound.

"Why's he scared?" whispered Goyle.

"Shh!" hissed Pansy, nodding her head towards their captors. They were all alert and jumpy.

"Sir, is she, is Her Majesty coming?" asked a small voice. A pathetic excuse of a rat was bowed low to Maugrim, trembling all over.

"Yes, Her Majesty will be arriving shortly and you'd better hope she fairs you better than them," he jerked his head towards the three trees. The rat gulped and quickly retreated back to his duties.

A cold shiver ran down the children's backs. No one could stop thinking about the graveyard full of statues. Did it hurt to be turned to stone?

Edmund couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Tumnus either. His body would be out somewhere in the graveyard, his hands trying to cover his terrified face. His red scarf would never again fly in the wind. Edmund tried not to panic at this thought. But there was no way out, nowhere to turn or to hide. Nothing could save them now.

( )

"Hurry!" shouted Mr. Winkle. "C'mon, hurry up!"

"Mr. Winkle, what is there that we must "hurry up"?" asked Mrs. Beaver, almost out of breath.

Mr. Winkle had been sent ahead nearly a half hour ago to make sure they were traveling a safe route. The flat land they had once been walking upon grew hills, taller and taller.

With all the new changes that were going on, the one everyone liked the most was the warmth, especially Ron whose clothes were now dry.

"Hurry! You'll see, you'll see!" squeaked the mouse. He was nearly jumping up and down with excitement.

Mr. Beaver was the first to climb to the top of the steepest hill the group had yet encountered. One look down and he was just as excited as his mouse friend.

"Don't dilly-dally. Get a move on!" he urged.

Peter, Harry, and Ron gave each other a look then they dashed to the top of the hill. When they stood beside Mr. Winkle and Mr. Beaver, they let out shouts of joy. Ron started waving his tomahawk in the air and prancing about making war cries.

"What is all the fuss about," asked Susan, but no one from the top gave her an answer. Sighing deeply she turned to her two companions.

"Shall we?"

Lucy and Hermione nodded their heads and as one, raced up the hill, closely followed by Mrs. Beaver. What they saw at the bottom of the hill was the last thing they expected.

Colorful tents were set up all along the small valley caused by the hills. Flags bearing a lion blew in the breeze. Cheerful noise floated up to them. The valley was full of activity. Armor was being made, swords were being tested, and arrows flew in the air to land on their mark. Centaurs, tigers, griffins, fawns, and many more creatures they didn't know the names of were talking to each other, singing and playing music. In the very center of the camp the largest and grandest tent of all was set up. It held the biggest flag of the camp on its top, the lion dancing in the wind.

"Aslan," Mr. Winkle said in awe. "This is Aslan's camp."

At the very sound of Aslan, everyone felt a chill run down their spine, yet in a good way. The name Aslan held fear, respect, but also tenderness and love. No one could explain why they felt this way, just hearing the name, but they did none the less.

"Suppose we ought to go and meet them?" Peter inquired a little nervously.

"I suppose we must," Mr. Beaver whispered. Looking at his wife he grabbed her hand and started down the hill into the valley, the six right behind him.


	11. The Taste of Blood

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 11 A Taste of Blood**

"Hermione," Ron whispered, "why is everyone looking at us like that?"

"Probably because we are just randomly walking into their camp."

"And the fact that we're, you know," Peter added, "Sons and Daughters of Adam."

"Well, that too."

The eight were now in the valley and deep within the field of tents. As they walked between the tents on a small path that was nothing more than worn down grass, every creature parted, looking in awe or in most cases, shock.

"Who goes there and what is your business?" came a deep voice. Looking up, the small group saw a fierce looking centaur holding a long blade in his hands. His coat was a deep brown and the man part of him was a dark tan, black hair falling to his shoulders. He stomped his hoof impatiently.

"We're, we're here to see Aslan," Peter stuttered.

"Yes," chimed in Susan, "we're Sons and Daughters of Adam."

"We need his help," Hermione pitched in.

"You are indeed Sons and Daughters of Adam are you?" the centaur said, almost in a challenging way.

"Well, yeah," Ron said as if the centaur was clearly out of his mind.

"You are not Sons and Daughters of Adam," the centaur glared at the Beavers and Mr. Winkle, his blade pointed at Mr. Beaver's chest.

"Well, obviously _we're_ not humans," chuckled Mr. Beaver nervously, stepping backwards a little. "We're, you know, beavers. Well, not him," he pointed at Mr. Winkle. "He's a moose, I mean mouse. He's a mouse."

Mr. Winkle shot a dark glare at him.

"It is alright, Starr," came a deep, yet understanding voice from behind. The voice carried respect and fear. "I have been expecting them."

The crowed parted to make way for another creature. Every head was bowed, every knee was bent, Starr among them.

What the small group saw gave them such fear that you could hear them trembling. A giant lion was in front of them, his thick mane dancing in the breeze, his whiskers standing straight out, and his deep green eyes narrowed on them.

Peter was the first to bow. Taking out his sword and pointing it to the ground he knelt in front of the great king, Aslan. Without hesitation, everyone else followed suit.

"Arise Peter, Susan, and Lucy. Arise Harry, Ronald, and Hermione, and arise He and She Beaver and arise Mr. Winkle."

The eight stood up, but none looked the lion in the eyes out of fear and respect.

The lion chuckled and said in the most beautiful voice the group had ever heard, "Do not look at the ground. You may look upon my face."

They, very slowly, raised their faces, still a bit frightened to look Aslan in the face. Now they knew why the name alone caused such emotions, for meeting him face to face was the most frightening yet honorable thing they had ever done.

"There are only eight of you; only six Sons and Daughters of Adam. Where is the seventh? Where is Edmund?" Even though Aslan spoke this in a question, it was clear he knew the answer.

Peter stepped forward and looking down at the ground he said, "He has gone with the White Witch." The crowd of creatures gasped, looking at one another in horror. A quiet murmur went throughout the creatures. When they quieted down, Peter spoke again.

"It, it was my fault, Sir. I was mad at him and told him he was no good." He paused before adding very softly, "I'm sorry."

Susan stepped forward to her brother. "It was my fault as well. We were all too hard on him."

Aslan then turned his attention on the three Hogwarts students. "And where are your classmates?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked flabbergasted.

"_Our_ classmates?" asked Hermione, confused.

"Yes. Draco, Pansy, Vincent, and Gregory?"

"Who the bloody hell are Vincent and Gregory?" Ron whispered.

"You know them better as Crabbe and Goyle," Aslan chuckled.

"Sir, Aslan," Harry started, "we were running away from them. I promised Mrs. McGonagall I wouldn't get into trouble with them for one week. We went inside a wardrobe and then we found ourselves here, in Narnia. The Slytherins never came with us."

"Quite the contrary," Aslan said, a smile forming on his face, well as good a smile as a lion can muster up that is. "They entered the same way as you. They have been trying to find you for quite some time now."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "You mean, they're with the White Witch as well?" Harry and Ron looked at her, then both boys grew a small grin on their faces.

"That is no wish for anyone here to find comfort," Aslan said, his power filling up his stern voice. "They must be found before the witch harms them more."

"But how?" Lucy asked. "How will we find them?" A tear began its decent down her cheek, brining reality back. This was no laughing matter. The White Witch was here for one thing and one thing only, to kill any and every human she could.

"Do not worry, dear Lucy," Aslan soothed. "Don't you have faith in me?" His eyes showed mercy and kindness, his voice comfort and healing.

"Yes, I have faith in you," Lucy answered.

"Then do not fear." A small smile found its way on Lucy's face.

Then to two creatures the small group did not see, "Take the boys and girls and wash them up. Dress them nicely and give them plenty to eat and drink."

Two fawns came over to them and bowed low. "I am Yelming and this is my sister, Olamine." They escorted the group towards two colorful tents. Yelming led the boys, including Mr. Beaver and Mr. Winkle into the tent on the right, and Olamine led the girls along with Mrs. Beaver into the one on the left.

When they came out, the girls were wearing beautiful dresses that nearly touched the ground. They were simple, yet elegant. The boys however were wearing dark slacks and light colored button-up shirts. Peter had his sword by his side. They were carrying their armor which Ron was having a very difficult time holding his tomahawk while hauling his helmet and armor. His chainmail was already on him.

"Ron, we're not going into battle yet," chuckled Harry.

"You never know," replied Ron, out of breath. "By Merlin's beard, this chain-shirt like thing is heavy."

"It's called chainmail," Hermione automatically said.

Yelming cleared his throat, making his presence known. "If you wish, there is a small stream right behind that hill," he pointed to their left. "It's very pleasant and the trees are lovely. You may go there if you'd like. I'm sure you have gone far and would like to rest."

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but last one there's a rotten Slytherin!" Ron shouted, trying to run with his chainmail still on. Without hesitation the rest of the Sons and Daughters of Adam raced up the hill, Ron falling behind rapidly.

"You do know you can take that off, right?" Harry asked.

"Of course I do!" Ron puffed up.

"Well, bye then mate," and Harry tore up the hill.

By the time Ron finally made it to the small stream everyone else was already enjoying the cool water or racing up trees.

"Hey, Ron!" yelled Harry. "Watch this!" Without warning he jumped from a tree branch into the water below, drenching Ron. Ron glared darkly at his friend. Another splash of water announced Peter's arrival into the water.

"Are you mental?"

"Hey, look over there," Peter pointed to another small hill. On top was a huge bolder. "I bet you can see everything on top of that bolder." Without another word the challenge was on and the three boys raced up the hill leaving the girls alone, splashing water at each other.

( )

Pansy's head shot up. Draco and Edmund followed suit. They heard a faint jingling sound. Maugrim heard it too. He was shaking all over, barking at everyone. A few minutes later they saw the white sledge being pulled by two reindeer. The White Witch stepped out, her dwarf opening up the door just in time.

"Where are the traitors?" she asked pleasantly.

"Tied to those trees, Your Majesty," Maugrim said hastily.

The White Witch walked crisply over to the three trees. She held her wand towards Draco and Edmund.

"Who should I point my wand to first? What about you, my dear?" The witch turned to Pansy.

"I will tell you who I will not turn my wand to," she said kindly. "I will not point my wand to the one who tells me where Aslan is. My wolves lost their trail after the river." She glared evilly at Maugrim.

"So, one of you, tell me now!"

( )

Harry and Peter were neck to neck. They both pushed themselves to go faster, but neither could gain on the other. Ron was in last place, far behind, his chainmail clunking with each step.

Suddenly Peter tripped and Harry gained the lead. Moments later he heard Harry yell, "I'm King of the Rock!" Rolling his eyes he got up, Ron finally falling down in exhaustion feet away.

"Man, you guys should see this," shouted Harry. "It's an amazing view. You can see for miles, well at least as far as the valley is. The hill we climbed earlier is blocking the rest of the view."

"Um, Peter?" Harry asked.

"What do you want?" Peter answered, a little defensively.

"Do girls usually climb trees and scream while looking terrified?"

"No. Why would Susan climb a tree?" Peter asked.

"Wolves!" Harry shouted, jumping off the boulder and sprinting towards the stream.

Peter took off leaving Ron alone, trying to get up.

As Harry ran past, Ron muttered, "Bloody hell."

Peter got there first. He instantly stopped. A wolf was looking directly at him. The other was pawing at the tree the girls had climbed up. Susan's legs weren't high enough and she had to keep moving to escape the claws.

"Well well, if it isn't a Son of Adam. You look just as funny as they say."

"G-go away. Leave the girls alone," Peter shakily commanded.

"Likely," grinned the wolf.

Peter took out his sword, his arm suddenly feeling weak and unprepared.

"You didn't use it once, you can't use it now."

"I was a little busy trying to help someone cross the river," Peter hissed back, fear building up.

"You'll always have an excuse. You'll always be a coward!" With that, the wolf jumped towards Peter.

"Peter!" screamed Susan and Lucy.

Harry and Ron saw Peter fall backwards, the mass of grey fur sprawled over him. The grey fur started to arise. The girls gasped, Susan covering her mouth.

"No, please, no," Susan whispered.

Then the grey fur fell limp to the ground next to Peter. Peter was sitting up, his face in shock, holding the bloodied sword.

**Review time. That means click on the little button that says "Review". Then type something, preferably something you liked/disliked about the story or advice on how to make it better. **

**Thanks to everyone who has given me feedback. You guys rock, and I'm sorry to everyone who's been following my story. I'm a great procrastinator. As they say, what you can do today could be done tomorrow.**

***Huggles***


	12. First Defeat

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 12 First Defeat**

"Peter!" screamed Lucy, crawling down from the tree and rushing over to hug her brother, Susan right behind her. The Hogwarts students huddled around the three giving congratulations for not dying.

"Um, guys," Ron whispered. "There's still another wolf."

Instantly five heads popped up and looked towards the trees at the wolf. The wolf had been startled by the kill but now he was sizing them up, looking for a vengeance.

"Just try it," Peter challenged, standing up and pointing his sword towards his foe

Just as the wolf was about to charge he looked towards the river. At least fifty beasts of all kinds were eagerly waiting to tear him to bits. But what frightened him most was their leader, a giant lion, Aslan.

"Can we kill it?" Starr asked, a grin on his dark face.

Without any more encouragement the wolf sped off into the forest.

"Follow him. He will lead you to the witch and to the Sons and Daughter of Adam," Aslan commanded.

Starr held out his sword, "Charge!" and they were off, chasing after the wolf.

"Peter," Aslan said, "clean your sword."

Peter stood, his red sword held firmly in his hand.

( )

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" cried a voice racing into camp. The wolf stopped when he saw her and bowed his head.

"Yes?" she asked, twirling her wand lazily.

"We're under attack! About fifty creatures will be arriving here at any moment," the wolf panted, looking up.

"And how did they find us?"

"They followed one of the two spies you sent out, Your Majesty."

"Prepare for battle. I'll personally see to the spy." With that she headed towards her sledge. Looking back she commanded, "Don't let them get the prisoners! I will be back and they better still be tied to those three trees," and she hopped into her sledge and hastily drove away.

Maugrim had heard everything. He barked orders to everyone, trying to get an advantage. He looked towards the prisoners. They were as good as dead. No one ever defeated his fierce pack. No one ever defeated him and no one ever would.

He let a grin appear on his face. "Bring it on, Aslan, bring it on."

Just as he felt the confidence he always had the battle began. Centaurs, leopards, cheetahs, and many more creatures crashed into the camp.

"Sir!" yelled a wolf from his pack, "there's too many of them. We can't stop them!"

"You aren't trying! If you don't stop them the prisoner will be rescued!"

"They're killing everyone!" the wolf pleaded.

"If the prisoners escape, Her Majesty will kill you!"

As if the whole world had turned against him, Maugrim saw his small army of creatures running out of camp, abandoning everyone and everything, including the prisoners.

"Get back here fools!" the wolf yelled. "Come back and fight!"

Maugrim ran after the closest animal, nipping at his feet to turn him around. When that didn't work he let out a low growl and leapt on the retreater.

"Stand your ground!"

"But Sir!"

"Did I ask you? No! I said stand your ground!" The other animal whimpered and slithered out of Maugrim's claws. He stayed put until Maugrim's attention was on another helpless beast and took off. Then out of nowhere a huge horse jumped in his way.

Maugrim turned around just in time to see a centaur slice the wolf's head right off. It landed three feet away from the limp body. Behind him he felt heat. He turned around. The tents were ablaze. A small rat ran out, his whole body on fire. His pathetic cries of help were in vain.

All around him havoc and chaos sprang into full throttle and consumed the small camp. Everywhere he looked Aslan's army was slaying his own. He knew what his duty was, but suddenly he felt like fleeing. Would this be the first time he didn't win?

Maugrim guarded his captives, fiercely looking for any attack or attempt at a rescue. As he circled the three trees, more and more of his army fled. The few that stayed were lying dead on the ground, some missing arms, legs, even heads.

Fear started eating its way into the wolf. Everywhere there was the enemy. He was completely surrounded, completely alone.

"There they are!" yelled a massive tiger. "The captives are tied to the trees!" Four creatures responded instantly. Two were half dog half human. One was another tiger and the last was a huge brown creature, a bison.

"Stay back!" growled Maugrim; his tail twitched nervously, his ears bent back.

"Move!" commanded the bison.

"No! I'd rather die!"

"Whatever you want," and with a huff the bison charged the wolf, his head bent down, his horns coming closer and closer.

Just before the horns pinned him, Maugrim ran. He ran for all he was worth, hoping the White Witch agreed with him. Hopefully she didn't kill him for failing to guard the captives. Hopefully she didn't turn him to stone for retreating, abandoning camp and disobeying orders. Hopefully the years of faithful service and victorious missions would spare him his life. But then again, the White Witch never gave second chances.

( )

"Rock paper scissors lizard Spock!"

"Beat you again," giggled Lucy.

"Come on," whined Ron, "best five out of nine."

"I've beaten you three times already," Lucy pointed out.

"What? You scared of losing?" Ron grinned.

"You're on."

"Rock paper scissors lizard Spock!"

"Four to none!"

"Mate, I hate to tell you, but I don't think you're going to win. She's got you. Admit it," Harry smiled. Ron glared at his friend.

Susan and Peter looked up from tic-tac-toe that they were playing on the dirt with small twigs. Peter grinned. He had just won. Susan looked miffed.

"Lucy is pretty good at that game," Peter added. "I understand the rock, paper, and scissors part, but why the lizard and what is a Spock?"

"I don't know why the lizard is in there, but Spock comes from Star Trek. It takes place in space. Spock is one of the main characters. He's a Vulcan," Hermione informed.

"What's a Vulcan?" Susan asked.

"A Vulcan comes from the planet Vulcan. They're kind of like humans, but with pointy ears and green blood."

"Really?" Ron sniggered, "They have green blood?"

As soon as the small group stopped giggling they heard the loud sounds of the trumpets.

"They're back!" Susan said excitedly hopping up.

The rest followed suite and followed her through the maze of tents to where Aslan's tent was, which was where they had first met the lion only yesterday. Aslan had sent out his rescue party not long before dark and they hadn't returned until now. It was late morning and everyone had been slightly on edge, especially Susan.

Suddenly Susan stopped, causing Peter and Ron to walk into her.

"Susan, move," Peter said shoving her forward a small bit.

"Where's Edmund? I don't see Ed?"

"Of course he's there. He's…he's…" Peter looked franticly around for his little brother. Lucy clung to his arm, trying to find him as well, but with no luck.

"Harry, Hermione, look over there," Ron grinned. Sitting on the ground were two very dirty sober looking children.

"Why, if this isn't Pansy, and who's this?" Harry feigned surprise. "Draco? No. It couldn't be him. He comes from a well to do family, not some dirt poor peasant."

"Shut up!" Draco shouted, standing up.

Ron and Harry laughed until they caught a glimpse of Hermione's death glare.

"There's nothing funny about this. They could have gotten killed," she said, hands on her hips.

"She's right," said a familiar voice. Looking down, the children saw Mr. Winkle.

"Oh, Mr. Winkle," sobbed Lucy. "D-do you know, wh-where Ed-Edmund is?"

"Ed? You mean Edmund?" Pansy asked.

The three Pevensies nodded their heads.

"He's over there," Pansy pointed towards a small hill a little ways from camp. They could just make out a small figure next to an unmistakable lion.

"He's alive!" Lucy cried.

"Is he hurt?" Susan asked.

"Edmund? Naw, he's fine," Pansy said. "Az-Az, the lion wanted to speak to him privately after he spoke with the three of us."

"His name is Aslan," Lucy said sternly.

"Wasn't there suppose to be two more of you?" Peter asked.

"Oh yeah," Ron remembered. "Where's Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Them?" huffed Draco. "As soon as they were lose they ran off into the wood. Who knows where those two fools are."

"They sent out another rescue party but no one found them," Pansy said with a tinge of excitement in her voice.

"I hope Aslan is giving him what he deserves," Peter glared.

"Don't be too hard on him," Mr. Winkle warned. "Aslan will take care of the discipline, but seeing how you are his brother, you should take care of the forgiving and loving part."

"Yeah, I know," Peter shrugged, "but why would he even choose to be on her side?"

"I think the better question is," Mr. Winkle said, "Why choose to be on Aslan's side?"

"Well, Aslan is good and the White Witch is bad," Lucy answered.

"What makes Aslan good and the White Witch bad?" Mr. Winkle encouraged.

"The White Witch uses fear as her power while Az-Az, the lion uses love," Pansy pointed out.

"Exactly," Mr. Winkle agreed. "Your brother was scared of her and didn't want her hate to be upon him so he did as she said. He may have once been deceived but he found out the truth but it was too late. Don't be too hard on him. What he needs now more than anything is forgiveness and love."

Mr. Winkle caught Ron and Harry's quick dark glance at Draco and Pansy.

"Even your enemies need to be shown love and forgiveness. If you hate and begrudge them, are you really any different?"

Harry and Ron looked slightly ashamed. Then Hermione glanced towards where Aslan an Edmund were.

"Edmund's coming," she said cheerfully.

Without a moment to lose, Lucy ran to meet her brother. Susan glared at Peter.

"Oh, fine. You know I'd never _hate_ him," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

He took a short look at his little brother walking towards them, his head down and hands in his pockets, looking like a scolded puppy. Then suddenly he was running to see meet him, Susan not far behind.

**Hope you liked this one. It was a bit hard to create the rescue scene. I thought Maugrim would be the best POV due to the fact he's pretty much in command. I wanted to show him feeling scared and wanted to get across that he's just as scared (if not more so) of the White Witch.**

***Huggles* **


	13. Maugrim's Reward

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 13 Maugrim's Reward**

"Edmund, oh Edmund!" Lucy sobbed into her brother's dirty shirt.

"Lucy, its fine," he mumbled, slightly embarrassed but mostly grateful that she didn't hold a grudge against him. He knew he deserved nothing less.

Edmund looked up just in time for his big brother to grab him in a big hug. Susan pushed Peter, almost knocking him to the ground to do the same.

"I think you should let him breath you know," Ron said. "I mean, I'm no genius but once someone's head turns blue something's wrong."

"Oh, sorry Ed," Susan said, a slight blush covering her face.

"Its fine," Edmund grinned.

Susan's eyes turned into sharp razors as she hissed at her little brother, "Don't you ever, _ever_ do that again." Suddenly her eyes filled with tears and she pulled Edmund into another warm embrace, her sobbing slowly subsiding.

"Susan, get off of him," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

Susan did as her brother requested and wiping away the last of her tears she released Edmund. He slowly turned around to face Peter. His brother's face looked just like their fathers when he was angry. He was away fighting a war, and Edmund knew a war wasn't too far away for them either.

Edmund put his hands in his pockets again and lowered his gaze. Peter looked just like their mother, except the eyes. Looking into Peter's eyes was like looking into his father's and he felt even more horrible.

"I'm sorry." Edmund had said it so quietly that no one was sure he had said anything at all.

"You could've gotten yourself killed. And if that wasn't bad enough, you almost got them" Peter nodded his head towards Draco and Pansy," and us killed as well! Why don't you ever think?"

"I didn't mean to. Honest, Pete, I didn't mean any of it."

"You never mean anything."

Edmund didn't respond.

"Oh jeeze, Ed!" Much to the surprise of Edmund, he found himself in a tight embrace from his brother.

"So you don't hate me?"

"Ed, I'm your brother, how could I hate you?"

"You seem to hate me."

Peter let go of Edmund. "I may get mad at you, but I'll never hate you."

Edmund wasn't quite convinced and it showed on his face. He looked down at his feet.

"Promise."

Peter's face held a smile when Edmund looked up.

"Thanks."

"Bloody hell," Ron sighed, "why don't you two just start snogging?"

( )

Sleigh bells rang, banged, and jingled and Maugrim's heart all but stopped. He looked to the left. Three trees stood with cut ropes lying around them on the cold snowy ground, no prisoners in sight. The White Witch's last words pounded in his head, "_Don't let them get the prisoners! I will be back and they better still be tied to those three trees_."

Then all was quiet. No jingling. Maugrim gulped down a bile taste. With quivering legs he started to walk towards his queen.

Soon white robes came into view. A pale tall slender body was twirling a wand in her firm hands. Her eyes were ice.

Maugrim bowed low, his nose touching the ground.

"I trust you have the prisoners secure?" came a bittersweet voice.

"Well, Your Majesty, there has been a slight problem." Maugrim looked up.

"A problem?" repeated the witch. "And has that problem been attended to?" Her face fell victim of a devilish smile that made her face gleam with anger about to burst, yet held in control. "I trust it has nothing to do with the prisoners."

Maugrim said nothing. He continued to look down, his bow slightly deepening. The White Witch could have sworn she heard a gulp.

"Maugrim, my dear, loyal, and fearless servant, tell me it has nothing to do with the prisoners. Tell me they are securely tied to those three trees."

Her sweet voice floated into Maugrim's ears yet with each syllable a sharp piercing pain seemed to consume him. His bow now almost rested on the ground, his eyes shut.

"Maugrim! Look at me!" she shouted. "Tell me!"

"Y-Your Majesty," Maugrim whimpered. He looked towards the three trees. The Witch's eyes followed. Then, with seemingly more confidence he spoke, "The camp was attacked by fifty or more great beasts. There wasn't a chance. I tried to make them stay, I tried to get them to stand their ground and fight, but they all deserted the camp." Then lower, "They all deserted me."

"Where are the prisoners?" The witch was on the verge of wrath, waiting for an excuse to use it.

"I circled around the three trees. Then there came a large number of beasts, beasts twice their regular size. There was even a bison! They charged me. I stood my ground, but," his voice faded away. "The prisoners escaped."

"The prisoners what!" The White Witch stormed to the three trees. Looking down at the cut ropes she twirled around, looking at her servant. "I ask you one thing. ONE THING! I asked for you to make sure the prisoners stayed tied to those three trees! And you failed! You miserable wretched thing! You failed!"

"Your Majesty, I tried to do as you wished, but there were too many. They would have killed me!"

"They should have."

"Your Majesty!" Maugrim cried.

His queen started to slowly walk towards him, her wand held tightly in her hands, her face masked with death, her eyes razor sharp ice.

"Why should I listen to you? You failed me! You not only failed me, but also deserted this very camp! You are a deserter, worthy of only pain and death."

"B-b-but," the wolf stuttered, backing up. "I have given you only faithful and loyal service. I have done your every wish. I was the one who found that fawn and dragged him to you. I was the one who tracked the Beavers and found their secret tunnel. I was the one who captured those wretched humans!"

"You are also the one who failed me," came an even voice. She raised her wand and pointed it towards the wolf.

"Your Majesty! Please, I beg you! I beg you! I won't fail you again! I swear I won't!"

"You won't fail me _again_? What do you mean by _again_?"

Maugrim's tailed touched a tree. He tried to go around it only to be stopped by another larger tree.

"No! Please! I'll do anything! ANYTHING!"

"_Anything_? _Again_?" The witch gave a cold heartless laugh. "Do you not know? I, the Great, the Just, the Beginning and the End, the White Witch, the Queen of Narnia _never_ gives second chances. There are no _agains_!"

Maugrim closed his eyes as the queen raised her wand a little higher for a more dramatic touch. But just before a stone wolf stood in front of her, she lowered her wand.

Maugrim opened his eyes. What he saw confused him, yet scared him all the same. What he saw was the White Witch looking at him, her eyes cold but distant, her arms crossed, her wand making circles in the air.

"However," she began in a sweet voice, "I do reward those who have given me faithful and loyal service. And up till now, you have." Her arms unfolded and her wand stood still at her shoulders. "I will spare your life."

"Oh, thank you Your Majesty! Oh thank you! I will never fail you again!" The wolf started kissing the ground close to her feet, his bow all the way on the floor.

"That is a comforting thought; however, your life will cost you."

Maugrim stopped and looked up.

"You said you would do _anything_. Isn't that right?"

Maugrim nodded his head and managed a weak, "Yes."

"Then this is what you must do, but remember, if you fail me this time, pain and death will be your only reward."

The witch's face had calmed from the rage it once held and in its place she wore a hungry, greedy, vengeful look, her eyes sparkling like smooth stones that have been caressed by the water on a sunny day before a mighty storm rolls in. Colorful glitters of light dance on them yet on the edge darkness started to creep in, consuming everything in its path.

**If you're happy and you know it click "Review". If you're happy and you know it click "Review". If you're happy and you show it, and you want for me to know it, then be happy that you know to click "Review".**


	14. Jeopardy

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 14 Jeopardy**

"Edmund, that can't be right." Peter, Harry, Ron, Susan, Hermione, and of course Edmund were sitting in a circle, sticks in their hands, drawing in the dirt.

"Why not?" challenged Edmund.

Peter laughed. "Don't you see those really tall hills over there? They're called mountains and unless you're bigger than a giant, how are you going to get over them within a few minutes?"

"What about through here?" Harry asked, pointing with his stick to the snake-like drawing that represented a river. "On the other side is the forest the White Witch was holding Ed and them as prisoners. We can go through there."

"Yes, I know we can go that way, but we need another route. At least one more route and then a backup plan for each route," Peter said, his voice harsh and tired.

"I agree, but maybe we should rest," Harry said, a little worried about Peter.

"I'm fine, really," Peter said, yawning at the last syllable.

Harry, Hermione, and Susan glared at him.

"Go get some rest. We probably…" Harry was interrupted by a loud snore. Looking to his left he saw Ron, sitting slouched, a stick drawing circles in the dirt.

"Ron! Wake up!" Harry yelled, pushing his redheaded friend over.

"HEY!" Ron yelled. "What the bloody idea here? I was asleep!"

"Exactly," Hermione said sternly.

"Well, some people need sleep ya know. It's not healthy being awake for more than twelve hours at a time."

"Twelve hours, huh?" Edmund asked cheekily.

"Well, something like that," Ron said, scratching his ear and yawning.

"As I was saying," Harry started.

"Whoa! What are those?" Ron asked, pointing to "X"s on the ground.

"If you had been listening instead of dozing off you'd know," Harry glared.

"Those are where the different groups of Aslan's army will be stationed," Hermione said.

"Army? Why are we talking about moving Aslan's army? Isn't here good enough?"

"Ronald, you can be so impossible," Hermione said in exasperation. "We are drawing up battle plans."

"Why?" came a high pitched voice.

Everyone looked around. Lucy was standing behind Peter.

"You were supposed to be asleep," Susan said annoyed.

"Ah lighten up, Sue," Edmund said. "She'd find out sooner or later. We have to fight the White Witch and her nasty, evil, wretched, dirty, no-good, minions."

"Like a war?" Lucy asked.

"Not _like_ a war," Ron corrected. "It _is_ a war."

Lucy seemed to understand and she sat down by her oldest brother, her face grave.

"Now, what was Harry going to say before we were so rudely interrupted?" Susan asked. Everyone glared at Ron.

"What?" he asked.

"I was just going to say it would do us all good if we all had a rest. We'd be able to come up with better plans."

"I'm fine," Peter said again, a little more firmly. "We need to get at least a rough draft done."

"This is pretty rough," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Rough yes. Draft no."

"Pete, please. We're all tired and Harry's right," Susan said.

"I'm right too you know," Peter shot back. "I'm the oldest here so I think I'm pretty much the leader and as leader I say I do not need a stupid bedtime, especially in the middle of the bloody day!"

Just as Susan was about to shout something in return a sinister horn blew. The sound came closer and closer. Some beasts were running towards the center of camp. Others just stopped at the noise and covered their ears while still others walked curiously to the center of camp.

Curiosity pulled the children towards the migrating cluster of beasts, stopping the argument.

Pushing their way towards the front the children got a glimpse of large fierce looking beasts. Some were wolves and oxen but there were also four centaurs. They were holding onto silver bars that were holding up a big white box. The box was big enough to fit two humans in it easily. One of the adjacent sides had no walls. Instead it had a pure white curtain.

The centaurs set the box gently on the ground. The curtain was pushed to one side. What emerged made Edmund gasp in shock and fear. The White Witch was standing feet away, but she didn't have her wand with her. However, it was pretty clear that being in possession of her wand in Aslan's camp would not get what she wanted accomplished. But he had to hand it to her. Even without her power instrument, she still held fear.

Aslan's beasts gave cries of shock and rage. Hissing, growling, barking, and booing were erupting, getting louder and louder.

"You ok Ed?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "Aslan's here. I'm sure…" his voice trailed away. Edmund was thankful that they were behind two bears, a leopard, three rather tall fawns, and a centaur. They were close enough to see what was going on but far enough to be hidden.

Looking at the witch, Edmund thought she looked frightened. She was very jumpy, always fidgeting with something: her hair, her robes, barking orders at her servants.

Instantly, all became quiet and the witch stepped several feet back, quivering and looking even more pale than she already was.

Aslan had just emerged from his tent.

"And what brings you here?" Aslan asked as though he already knew. He didn't seem surprised to see his enemy in the middle of his camp nor the answer that he got.

"I believe you know why I am here. If I'm not mistaken, which I rarely am, you have a few things to belong to me. Three things to be exact."

Aslan said nothing.

"You know the Deep Magic as well as I do. Every traitor belongs to me and their life forfeit. The three human traitors are mine. I want them back and I want them now." When the witch still got no reply she tried again. "You do know the Deep Magic, don't you?"

"I _wrote_ the Deep Magic!" Aslan said, authority in his voice. It was a voice that wasn't going to be pushed around or tampered with. It was a voice the witch feared for she shrank back towards her servants.

With a smaller voice she stated, "Then you agree that the blood of the three traitors are mine."

A small chatter went through the crowd. What was the witch talking about? What three traitors did she own? Then they all looked towards Edmund.

"You, boy, come here," the witch commanded to Edmund after finding him with the help of the crowd. Hesitantly, Edmund walked forward.

"Where are the two others, child?" she asked.

Edmund said nothing.

"Where are the other two prisoners?" she asked again, a little louder. When she still had no reply she screamed, "Where are they!"

"I-I don't' know," Edmund managed.

The witch made to grab at him but a fierce roar stopped her. She backed further away.

Just then two more humans were pushed into the front, only yards away from the witch.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" the White Witch cooed. "If it isn't the other two traitors. That was ever so thoughtful, _Aslan_, to bring them to me."

Draco and Pansy tried to shrink away but with no luck.

"You two better stay put," she growled.

"I think it would be wise to talk this over," Aslan said. It was much more a command than a sentence.

Realizing she didn't have much of a choice the witch nodded her head.

"Yes, I believe that would be…sensible."

"Inside my tent," Aslan added.

The witch just stared at him. Looking back at her followers seemed to have given her a fake courage. She straightened up and followed the great lion inside his tent.

Edmund, Draco, and Pansy knew jeopardy had just begun.

( )

"Stop it Ed," Susan said, "I'm sure Aslan will work everything out. I'm sure of it." Yet, however sure she was her eyes kept watering and her voice quivered.

The seven children sat a few yards away from the path that lead to Aslan's tent. Pansy and Draco were nearby but weren't included nor had a need to be. Pansy looked as pale as Draco and somehow he looked as white as death. They were both slightly shaking while huddled together.

Ron gave a soft snort as he saw them. "Look at the two of them. Two Death Eaters are scared."

"Ron," Hermione glared, "they are not Death Eaters. There is nothing to prove they are."

"There's nothing to prove they aren't," Ron shot back.

"What are Death Eaters?" Lucy asked.

Harry nodded towards Draco and Pansy. "Them."

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, drawing the attention of many beasts. Of course her hitting him didn't help either.

"Well?" Susan asked.

"They're servants of the Dark Lord, Voldemort," Harry answered.

"Don't say his name!" Ron cringed.

"Why can't you say his name?" Peter asked.

"People are scared of him that much. He has killed many people and hates Muggles. He was the one who gave me this scar," Harry said pulling his hair out of his face and revealing a zigzagging scar upon his forehead.

"I wondered what that was about," mused Peter.

"What are Muggles?" Lucy inquired.

"You guys," Ron informed. "Ya know, non-magical people."

At this Peter, Susan, and Lucy gave blank looks.

Edmund had paid no attention to any of the conversation. Instead he was pulling up grass and throwing them down.

Just as Ron was going to explain, Aslan followed by the White Witch emerged from His tent. Everyone stood up. Edmund was rigid, his eyes intent. Draco and Pansy looked much the same.

"We have reached an agreement," Aslan announced.

A heavy pause filled the air as the fate of the three prisoners was to be decided. Before Aslan gave the verdict Edmund saw a triumphant smile cross the witch's beaming face.

**If you review, maybe, just maybe I'll… Naw. I'd never do that. **

**Ok, if you review I'll give you…um…no…nevermind. **

**Alright. I got it. If you review….oh screw it.**

**Review…? Please…? *Huggles***

**(Sorry you guys had to wait so long. I was completely lost in the latest Blue Blood book, The Van Allan Legacy. It's so good. And then it was the latest Alex Rider Adventure, Crocodile Tears. And then before all that I was just lazy. I'll try to do better….if you review…hahaha….I win…dang it…I just lost the game….)**


	15. A Walk In The Dark

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 15 A Walk In The Dark**

"We have reached an agreement," Aslan announced.

A heavy pause filled the air as the fate of the three prisoners was to be decided. Before Aslan gave the verdict Edmund saw a triumphant smile cross the witch's beaming face.

"She has relinquished her claim of the three humans."

As if the world had been holding its breathing and had just been given the ok to start breathing again the entire camp burst out with whoops and hollers, yells of victory and laughter so contagious soon the vast majority of the camp had tears streaming down their eyes.

"Edmund!" Lucy and Susan screamed, hugging their brother as tightly as they could. Peter put an arm around Edmund's shoulders, his eyes watering just as much as the girls. Ron and Harry high-fived, their laughter starting to affect Lucy and Susan. Hermione smiled brightly at Edmund before rushing over to him, joining in on the family hug.

Before ten seconds had gone by many of the beasts made their way towards Edmund, congratulating him for his life that was free from the witch.

"Out of the way! Move!" came a deep voice. Several creatures scampered away but others didn't budge. "Are you deaf? MOVE!"

Instantly a path was made and Starr pranced his way to the humans. With a big smile he shook Edmund's hand. "Good to know you'll still be fighting with us." Then with a wink at Lucy, "Make sure he keeps out of trouble. He seems a decent enough fellow."

Giggling Lucy nodded, "Oh, of course I will, won't I Ed?"

That fact that his life had just been spared was still a little hard to comprehend. He wasn't going to die, well at least not by the witch for being a traitor. He hadn't spoken a word nor had anything but relief appeared upon his face. But at the sight of his little sister, he began to giggle, a smile slowly claiming his face.

Music started playing and dance broke out across the camp. Ron casually strolled up to Hermione, than bowing awkwardly he asked, "May I have this dance?"

"Oh Ron, really? You are such a dork," but she took his hand and off they went.

Seeing the luck with Ron, Harry walked up to Susan, and with a slight bow he asked, "Would I have the pleasure of a dance with this lovely lady?"

As soon as the words came out the Pevensies exploded in laughter. Harry's face turned bright red and he stood up right away. He felt so stupid. Looking at the ground he silently cursed his best friend. Out of all people, how did _Ron_ get the girl?

"Don't be mad," Susan giggled, trying to calm herself down. "I'd love a dance with such a dashing young man such as yourself."

Looking up, Harry saw a friendly smile on her face. Smiling back he took her hand and swept her into the sea of beasts.

Edmund was laughing just as much a Lucy at the sight of Harry's deep blush, but it quickly drained away when he looked to the right. Everyone was celebrating, everyone but two. It seemed to him that the dance and music, the laughter and jovial mood was to celebrate his life being spared. However, there had been two more lives that had been spared along with his own, yet no one took the time to notice them.

Draco and Pansy were standing by themselves right where they had been when the good news had been announced, right next to the path that the witch had followed both in and out of camp. They looked relieved, but no trace of joy was to be found anywhere on their face.

"Ed? Ed, what's wrong?" Peter asked. "Edmund!"

"What?"

"What's wrong?" Peter asked again.

"Nothing," came his reply even as Edmund started to walk away from his siblings.

It wasn't hard to make his way through to Draco and Pansy even if the rest of the camp was as dense as a rock. However easy it was, he stopped short of his destination.

"Edmund, Edmund!" hollered a voice that was nearly carried away by the noise of the crowd.

Edmund turned around and was instantly greeted by a sobbing Mrs. Beaver, a handkerchief dabbing at her eyes. She was trying to say something but all that came out was more sobbing.

"Now now, Dear, all's well," Mr. Beaver said, patting his wife consolingly on the back, then turning his attention back to Edmund he smiled.

"I am so glad that you are alright." A nervous chuckled escaped. "I am very glad I get to know the brother that youngest one," Mr. Beaver jerked his head indicating Lucy, "is always jabbering away at."

"MR. BEAVER!" hollered Mrs. Beaver, outraged enough to stop crying.

"Quite insensitive as always," laughed Mr. Winkle. He scurried up to Mr. Beaver and Edmund. "Aslan has yet again defeated that filthy witch! Praise to Aslan. I am so very glad you are free from her."

At the mention of "her" Mrs. Beaver started blubbering all over again.

"Mrs. Beaver, really, you have enough emotion to kill that bloody witch," Mr. Beaver sarcastically said, rolling his eyes and trying to get her off of Edmund.

"Come along, Edmund," squeaked Mr. Winkle. "The night is young and so are you. We must celebrate this day. In fact, we should name this an official holiday."

"Yes!" agreed Mr. Beaver. "Spare Edmund Day!"

"No no, that sounds silly," Mr. Winkle snorted, dragging Edmund with him. "What about Living Edmund Day?"

"That would never go over. But by Aslan's mane I got it!" Mr. Beaver cried, snapping his fingers. "Edmund's Day!"

"Yes, Edmund's Day!"

"You two are disgraceful!" Mrs. Beaver scolded. "Utterly disgraceful!"

Edmund twisted his head around to see Draco and Pansy still standing alone. Right before Mr. Winkle, the Beavers, and Edmund became lost in the chaos Draco turned around. His gaze reached Edmund's. For a small moment their eyes were locked together, but with a final push from Mr. Beaver, Edmund found himself looking at creatures dancing, laughing, and drinking.

As mugs splashing their cold but warming liquid were pushed into his hands, he heard a voice yell above the crowd, "To Edmund! The boy who lived!"

"To Edmund!" the crowd cheered, clinking their mugs together and then drowning their contents.

"Oh, I do love parties!" Mr. Beaver said after nearly drowning in his mug. "Any excuse to drink is fine by me."

"Agreed," nodded Mr. Winkle.

"Another toast, my little cheese-seeking friend!"

"Aye! To drinking!"

"To drinking!"

_CLINK_

(Later That Night)

Edmund was lying on the ground next to Peter who was sound asleep. Since they weren't in their tent Edmund lazily gazed up at the stars. Across the smoldering fire Harry and Ron were cuddled together, Ron snoring loudly, much like a train smashing into a brick wall. Well, maybe not that loud, but it still held power.

He glanced a small ways from them. Next to a rock a bit over a yard high and twice as thick lay Draco. He was curled into a ball, a blanket pulled nearly over his head. Edmund had given him the blanket. Draco had been asleep at the time but Edmund preferred it that way.

By now most of the camp was asleep but there were still a small handful who were up, well more like awake. The ones who were awake were too drunk to walk. However, they too were being pulled into slumber.

A soft mournful song floated to his ears. Edmund listened intently, wondering who could be singing such a beautiful yet lamenting song. The voice was deep keeping the song slow steady. Gradually the song left Edmund, moving away into the woods.

It made Edmund sad when he couldn't hear it anymore, yet it also had made him even more tired and he cuddled up against Peter.

Before his dreams took him he heard two drunken animals trying to sing.

"Beer for breakfast, beer for lunch.  
Don't stop drinking till you're drunk!  
Beer in the morning, beer at night  
Just drink beer, you'll be alright!"

The two voices stopped and then one spoke.

"There's another verse, I knows it! Sing the other verse my squeaky friend."

"I like your eyes," came his lazy response.

"That's not the verse. Wait, you really like my eyes? My wife thinks they're dazzling."

Edmund chuckled when he heard them fall over and almost instantly Mr. Beaver and Mr. Winkle were sound asleep, their soft snores growing louder by the minute.

(Still Later That Night)

"Susan?" whispered Lucy. She, Susan, Hermione, and Pansy were lying in their beds inside their own personal tent, the "Girls Tent" as they called it. Their beds consisted of many blankets laid out on the ground. Despite the fact they were merely sleeping on the ground their beds were quite comfortable and cozy.

Lucy strained her ears. She had heard something, something beautiful and charming, yet it seemed to be coming from a very long ways away. She had the urge to go out and find where such a lovely yet sorrowful song was coming from.

"Yes, Lu?" Susan whispered back.

"Do you hear that?" Lucy asked. "The song?"

"Yes. It's gorgeous isn't it?"

"I hear it too," Hermione chimed in.

"It sounds so mysterious," Pansy added.

The song grew louder ever so slightly. They saw a massive shape walk along the side of their tent. The shadow was that of a lion.

"Aslan!" the four girls exclaimed together.

As if they all had the same exact thought, the girls hastily crawled out of bed and stepped outside their tent.

"Do you think Aslan is singing it?" Lucy wondered aloud.

"I don't know. Let's follow Him," Susan suggested.

Silently they agreed and ran towards the sound of the song. It lead them towards the forest and they entered it cautiously.

Looking around they found Aslan walking away from them, his head bowed low, his tail trailing the ground. His composure frightened the girls. They had never seen nor thought possible that Aslan could be sad. Yet here He was. Sadness and maybe a little bit of fear seemed to hang around Him in a cloud.

The girls crept behind Him, careful not to get caught. Deeper and deeper into the forest Aslan walked. His pace never quavered nor quickened. The girls brushed past overgrown flowers and ferns. They scurried over fallen trees and rocks. Every now and again the trees would be so think that they thought they had lost Aslan, but they always caught sight of Him moments later.

"Were do you think He's going?" Lucy asked. The only reply she got was a small shrug. "Do you think He knows where He's going?"

"Of course He does," Hermione answered in a whisper. "He's Aslan."

"I know where I am going and it is no place for children, no matter how brave they think they are."

The four girls twirled around. They hadn't realized that Aslan would hear them or that He would know they had been following. However, instead of being mad He seemed almost happy of their presence.

"Where are you going?" Lucy asked Him. Without thinking about it, Lucy put her hand on Aslan's back and stroked it like a cat nestled in your lap.

"That I cannot tell you." Aslan replied softly.

"Can we go with you?" Hermione inquired.

Aslan seemed to think her question over before answering, "You may accompany me only as far as I tell you. When I tell you to go back you must leave me and return to your tent."

The girls agreed and Aslan started walking again, His head held slightly higher, his tail no longer trailing the ground.

"Aslan?" inquired Pansy hesitantly.

"Yes, Pansy?"

"You're not singing."

"That sounds more like a statement than a question, my child. What would you like to know?"

"Well, if you're not singing, who is?"

"Listen around you," Aslan said, gazing at the trees, the stars, the wind. "The very forest is singing, for this is not a night for jokes and silly games." He paused than quieter, "This is a solemn night. There has been no night this grave before and never shall be again."

The five walked in silence for a spell. The trees were swaying gracefully, the grass rippling methodically, and the wind was keeping the melody gliding along. Finally they stopped.

Aslan took a breath and looked them in them eye in turn.

"Here is where I must journey alone and you must go back to your tent."

"Aslan," Lucy began, a small tear falling down her cheek, "you are coming back, right? You're not leaving us, are you?"

"Have I ever given you reason to believe that I would ever abandon you?"

"But you're so sad."

"Every being will encounter sadness in their lifetime. It is an emotion that is inevitable yet necessary. Do not worry about me for I know what I must do. Now go back and sleep. Sadness will be overcome by joy, for it always will."

With one final look at the four girls, Aslan started His walk again. Within seconds He had disappeared from view.

"Come on," Susan said, hugging her little sister. "Aslan said we have to go back. Besides, I'm sure He knows what He's doing." She led Lucy, Hermione, and Pansy back to their tent.

Lucy wiped away the last of her silent tears and pulled a blanket up to her ears. Aslan would come back. Yet she couldn't forget how sad he had looked. She wished she hadn't left, but it was too late now. She would never find Him. Soon her eyelids closed and her mind was lifted away into dreams.

**Sorry that this is a long chapter. I've been brainstorming up a tornado and I think I've got it all figured out. Sorry for the wait. (Believe it or not I have been in the process of writing this chapter for weeks, literally.)**

**Aslan is sad, so naturally you will review to make Him feel better. (And of course to tell me if this makes sense. It's 12:09 and I'm tired, so things may not make sense. Sorry in advance.)**

***Huggles***


	16. Why The White Witch Grinned

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 16 Why The White Witch Grinned**

"Where's Aslan?"

That was the question that the girls woke up to. The entire camp was in a frenzy. Multiple groups went in search of Him, not that He was lost. Everyone knew Aslan was not lost, yet they were anxious for His return. He was their strength, their heart. Aslan made them who they were and if He wasn't with them, who was?

"Where's Hermione? You know something, don't you?" Harry accused Susan.

The boys, Peter, Edmund, Harry, Ron, and Draco had been wakened early in the morning and had partaken in several small searches and discussions about Aslan's whereabouts. Each boy had yet to smile, even Ron, which was unheard of. Ron could always make someone smile, especially when he didn't mean to.

"Pansy?" Draco drawled. Even the Slytherin Prince seemed to be effected by the lion's absence.

"Draco," she said evenly. She looked him in the eye until he looked away.

Without warning, the youngest of the group, Lucy, burst out crying. She clung to Susan, burring her face in her sister's side. The boys were startled at this unexpected outburst, yet they noticed the girls seemed to be expecting this.

Peter looked to Susan expectantly. She shifted uncomfortably while holding onto Lucy.

"Please, tell us where Aslan is," Harry pleaded. "You can't deny it. You know where He went. I know you do, so spill the bloody beans."

Susan, Lucy, and Pansy glanced at each other. Yes, they knew where Aslan had gone and they knew why He wasn't here.

(A Few Hours Before)

"Lucy, wake up," Susan whispered to her little sister, shaking her softly awake.

It was still night-time and the stars were still sparkling about. It had been only minutes after the girls had gotten back to their tent that they had reached an agreement. They were going to find Aslan. Everyone agreed it couldn't be that hard, everyone but Lucy. She had fallen asleep just before the discussion had taken place.

Half asleep, half awake, Lucy was guided towards the forest, Susan holding her hand. The four girls retraced their steps deep into the forest. It wasn't hard. There had been few turns to mix them up and the turns they did have were memorable.

One was by a gigantic boulder with ancient script chiseled into it. The second was where two fallen logs met. Both the third and the fourth were marked by very distinguished trees which stood out so because of their massive size both in height and width.

Finally, after they nearly thought they had gone the wrong way after all, the girls found the spot where they had stopped and left Aslan. Hermione gazed intently in the direction Aslan had taken as He had slowly walked away.

"It's the song again!" Lucy gasped, a smile lit upon her face. "The song, it's coming from over there." Lucy pointed to the right.

"Lucy, it's just a song," Susan said, "a very sad song."

"Yes, I know, but wherever Aslan went, so did the song." Encouraged by the three blank stares Lucy continued. "We heard the song as it became louder and then we saw Aslan's shadow as He passed by. Once He did so, the song started to grow quiet. The closer we got to Aslan, the louder it was. It," she paused, trying to think of the right word. "It _moved_ with Him."

"She's right," Pansy granted. "Where Aslan is the song is also."

"And the song is over there!" squealed Lucy, pointing to the right again.

Hurriedly the four girls dashed forward, inspired by the song and the thought of finding Aslan. They rushed through brush and lollopped over a rather large hill. The hill contained many trees and rocks, both large and small, but all inconvenient.

As the girls neared the top, the sad song started to become mixed with another noise. This noise held a very rhythmic time to it. It was energetic yet frightful. It seemed like a mixture of heavy drums, a devilish horn, and worst of all, voices.

"Shh!" shushed Susan, grabbing Lucy and covering her mouth before her little sister could protest.

She, Hermione, Pansy, and Lucy crawled the few yards to the top. On the top the trees thickened so much that it was impossible to see past three feet without bumping into another tree. Heavy branches hung low, some even resting on the dying grass that became littered with colorful leaves. The leaves were very dry and crunched loudly as the girls slowly stood up and carefully made their way through.

Lucy noticed that the leaves seemed to have been drained from the lively autumn colors. Grays, dirt browns, dark greens that looked more like black, and an occasional orange that seemed more like a grey took their place.

Each step they took the louder the new song became. The trees started to thrash wildly about, their branches brushing into one another. It was so sudden that it made the girls jump. Looking behind them, the soft memorizing sway of the trees roughly came to a halt and one by one began its wild new dance.

It didn't take long to wade through the trees, however dense it may have seemed, and soon four pairs of eyes were peering through some of the tiny spaces that dying bushes come to have. Though it was clear that the bushes would soon fall to the ground, they were still a little over four feet high if you measured from the ground to the highest branch. Directly behind the long line of bushes, the trees remained. At many times they were so close the foliage and the trees touched and melded into one another.

Just like the drastic change from giant trees to the dying brush, what lay beyond the brush was nothing but grass that disappeared into dirt. Again, a drastic change occurred again, but this time it was so drastic the girls nearly screamed, and both Susan and Hermione had to put their hands over Lucy's mouth so her scream would be stifled.

Only a little less than a football field away, torches were lit, casting demonic shadows upon the ground. It was not the torches, fire, or shadows that terrified the girls, but rather what held the torches. Hundreds of dreadful creatures, some that didn't have a name in the world the Pevensies and the Hogwarts students came from, stood, sat, hovered, danced, and all in all jeering at something or someone.

Looking intently, one could see Wraiths, Ogres, Hags, Sprites, and even bull-headed men. The beasts seemed to be gathered around something. It was them that were making the cruel noise. The chanting was becoming louder and soon it was clear the words they were chanting so fiercely were in another tongue. Yet there was one figure that did not chant. The figure just stood there calmly, holding a demeaning knife in her hands.

"The White Witch!" hissed Pansy angrily although it was clear the time she had spent being the witch's captive had taken a toll.

"The Stone Table," Lucy gasped. Even without ever seeing it, there was no mistake. The witch was standing next to the Stone Table.

Suddenly prate, howls, and low hisses came from the beasts. The White Witch abruptly looked startled, but just as soon she recomposed herself.

"Aslan," whispered Hermione as the girls saw what was causing the rash behavior. "Go back, run," she murmured, horrified. But Aslan kept walking forward in the same slow pace.

"Fool!" yelled the witch. "Bind that idiotic dupe!"

The girls braced themselves for Aslan's roar and His grand assault to finish off the witch and her horrid army, but it never came.

"Bind Him fast!" the pale witch ordered.

Slowly four Hags emerged from the circle of beasts. Gradually they started towards the great lion. It finally seemed that courage had touched them for the evil sneers and confidence returned and they quickly advanced upon Aslan.

Seeing how He made no effort to defend Himself, the other beasts rushed to help bind the lion. War cries, cheering, and shouting became deafening. With the force only a mob could muster, the beasts grabbed chunks of Aslan's hair as they pushed Him onto His back and tied His four paws together. They had bound Him so tight that the rope was cutting into Him. Then they started to drag Him to the Stone Table.

"Why doesn't He fight?"choked Lucy. Had Aslan wanted, all the beasts could be in His place, yet not one moan, cry, or any sound at all escaped His lips.

"Wait!" commanded the witch. A gnarly grin appeared on her pale face. "He seems to be getting too hot. We would hate for you to be uncomfortable, now would we." In reply the beasts started chuckling. "Shave Him."

More laughter and shouting came around as an ogre came stumbling out of the circle and towards Aslan, a pair of shears in his hand. The roar of the beasts became loudest yet as the ogre cut away the beautiful golden mane that had once surrounded Aslan's head.

Soon, the ogre stood up, admiring his work. The lion looked so much smaller and less like a lion that a gasp went throughout the circle of beasts and the children hiding behind the bushes.

A deep voice rang out, "Why, He's nothing but a cat!"

"Is that was we were scared of?" came another.

"Here kitty kitty," laughed a third high-pitched voice. "Here kitty kitty."

Soon the circle joined in, mocking Aslan as if He was nothing but a servant, or more accurate, a slave.

"How can they say such things?" asked Pansy. Her voice was thick and choked up. Her eyes held too much water and soon a few tears slid down her cheek. "Oh, they're swines! Nothing but filthy fat swines!" As she said this, she saw a better view of Aslan. His face no longer looked pathetic and weak. It looked more patient and dazzling than ever before.

"Muzzle Him!" yelled the witch. Yet even now, one bite, just one fierce bite, and three of the wretched beasts wouldn't live to regret it. It would be so easy now. But Aslan didn't move as they put a muzzle on His face. He just lay there like a tired mother lets her children jump and bounce around, pulling onto her arm or hanging onto her leg. But his lack of reaction seemed to frustrate the beasts. Soon, the ones who were too timid to come near the lion now ran at Him rashly, kicking, biting, spitting, punching, and pulling out even more of His golden hair. So many beasts were upon Him that the four girls couldn't see him.

Soon the horde became bored of the physical abuse and began dragging Him towards the Stone Table once again. Once there, many creatures hoisted the tattered lion onto the surface of the Stone Table. As soon as He lay upon the cold surface many creatures swarmed around Him with more ropes and tightening the ropes He already had.

"Cowards," Hermione sobbed. "They're _still_ afraid of Him. Just look! There's hardly anything left to be frightened over."

Minutes later, when finally Aslan was tied, or rather wrapped from all the rope that held Him, the mob quieted. Four Hags stood at the four corners of the table, torches in their hands. The witch started to sharpen her knife. When the moonlight hit it, the knife looked like stone and not of steal.

Finally the witch walked over to Him, standing by His head. Her face twitched with anticipation and excitement, yet Aslan's looked heavenward. Neither hate nor fear was shown upon His face, but He did look sad.

She stooped down to His level and asked in a trembling voice, "And now who has won? You imbecile, did you really think that by doing this you could save those prisoners, traitors? I will kill you in their place, but you forgot one thing only a fool would forget. Once I kill you, who will stop me from killing them?

"Now understand this. You have given me Narnia for always and ever and have saved nothing. With that in mind, despair and die!"

The witch stood swiftly up, her arms raised high over her head, the devilish knife pointed towards Aslan's heart.

As the stroke fell, the four girls huddled together, shutting their eyes.

(Back At Aslan's Camp)

Susan looked Peter in the eye. In a hoarse voice she stated calmly yet with tears streaming from her eyes, "He died."

**I guess complaining about my keyboard injuries to my lab top caused by a horrid little barking dog would seem silly at the moment, but I don't care. My keyboard is dying. The "U" "Shift" "Up" and "F8" keys are either broken, not working well, or oddly pushed into the keyboard.**

**However, since this is your guy's Valentine's Day present, you'll review right? Lol**

**Happy Chocolate-Rose-Heart-Love Day. *Huggles***


	17. The Calm Before The Storm

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 17 The Calm Before The Storm**

"Follow me!" yelled the White Witch. "We will surely win the battle for we have already won the war!"

The beasts gave a triumphant roar, yell, shout, or whatever they could to make their rowdy crowd louder still.

"To the prisoners and to battle!"

"To the prisoners and to battle!" cried the witch's army.

To the four girl's horror the witch and her minions started racing towards the bushes and trees, straight towards them.

"Quick, get down over here!" hissed Hermione, crawling a few paces over so with any luck they wouldn't be noticed. And with great relief her plan worked. They weren't found, but it was a close call. The girls could feel the evil creatures passing them, their foul sent making them gag.

It seemed like an hour passed by before the beasts did, but in reality it had only been three to five minutes at most. They stayed hidden a little longer until they carefully crept out and into the dying grass and dirt.

When they saw Aslan all four girls stopped dead in their tracks, gasping and putting their hands to their mouths. What once had been a great and terrible lion now was a limp and pathetic looking cat. Breaking free of her sister's embrace, because that's what Susan does when she and Lucy see something sad or frightful; she hugs, and ran to the Stone Table.

"Lucy, wait!" Susan cried, but she and the other two girls had already started after her.

Kneeling besides Aslan's body Lucy laid her head upon His golden face, absently brushing him where His mane had once been.

"Oh, Aslan," she wept, "oh, Aslan. You can't be…you can't…" but Lucy couldn't make herself say the dreaded word, _dead_. But there was no doubt about it. Aslan was as dead as dead gets.

"Let's take off this wretched muzzle," Hermione suggested and in a short while the muzzle was thrown to the ground and Aslan's face was free.

The girls stayed at Aslan's side for a while, crying and petting the lion. The wind seemed to cry in agony of the Great Narnian Prince. Even the trees seemed to be mourning. But even if Aslan wouldn't rise again, the sun still would, even if for the last time.

"We have to go back," Susan said. "They'll wonder where we went off to."

"Susan!" Lucy yelled in astonishment. "We can't leave Aslan! What if they come back for his body? We can't let that happen. We can't let those miserable beasts take Him, we just can't!"

"No," Pansy agreed. "We can't let them." Tears started swelling up underneath her eyes as a sudden thought came to her. "That should have been me. I should have died. _I_ was the traitor, not Him."

"I'll stay," Hermione said softly. "I doubt they'll come for the body anytime soon. He's gone. Now they're looking for us."

"But, what if you're wrong? What if they do come back?" Lucy asked.

"Hermione's right," Susan said. "They won't be coming back, not for a good while at least. They want a war, and we'll give them one."

"Besides, we can't leave the others alone. They need to know."

"And dampen their spirits right before battle?" Hermione asked. "No, you shouldn't tell them, not yet."

"They have a right to know. This is about Aslan, not us. This battle will be for Aslan. They need to know," Susan argued.

"Fine," Hermione said. "You three go tell the camp. I'll stay here and make sure nothing happens to Him."

Lucy hugged Hermione and she, Susan, and Pansy set out back to camp, their hearts heavy, their steps slow, yet each had a dangerous look in their eye. Battle was coming as surely as the sun was and they needed to be prepared.

( )

"Aslan's what!" came four voices.

Susan just gazed at the ground, Lucy still sobbing.

Suddenly Peter got up, fire burning in his blue eyes.

"It was that witch, wasn't it! That bastard killed Aslan! But it just doesn't make sense." Peter paused his pacing, his arms behind his back, his hair in his face. "Aslan is the most powerful creature to ever walk this earth. He could have easily gotten away and defeated that witch and her army."

"Yes," Ron agreed. "There's no bloody way Aslan's dead."

"But I saw it! I saw Him!" Pansy protested. "He _is_ dead."

"You're lying," was the response Draco said as if it was obvious.

"No we're not!" Lucy said, her crying stopped at least temporarily. "We saw the witch stab Him and we were there with Him after she left."

"He's faking," Ron smiled. "Ya know, to test us or something. I mean, it's something Dumbledore would do."

"Dumble who?" Edmund asked.

"He's our crazy headmaster," Draco explained.

"Doesn't our word mean anything to you?" Lucy asked, then looking straight at Peter, "Would I lie, especially with something like this?"

Peter took a deep breath. "If Aslan is dead, the witch and her army will be getting ready for battle if they're not already ready. Their actions will be held accountable and they will pay for what they did. This will be the war Narnia will sing about in the day s to come."

Within fifteen minutes every living thing in the camp knew of Aslan's death and was preparing for war against the foe who dared to strike down their leader. Blades were being sharpened, shields tested, armor fitted, and spirits blazing. Nearly every beast in camp was going to be in battle and the few who weren't were going to see it nonetheless for nurses and cooks were needed just as much as soldiers.

Peter pulled out his shield, sword belt, sheath, and sword, Harry his shield and flail, while Ron gladly gripped his tomahawk in his hands. Susan grasped her bow, her quiver of arrows strapped to her back, and her ivory horn swung across her shoulders. Lucy found her small bottle and little dagger. Edmund, Draco, and Pansy were given shields, swords, and armor; even though the other children also were given armor since Father Christmas had neglected that particular battle equipment.

Everyone was glad that ever since the camp had been put up, training had taken place and the children were of no exception. As soon as they had walked into camp Starr began teaching them how to use their weapons and useful defensive skills. He and other well trained warriors had worked with the children intensely. Every time weariness wore one of the children down, Starr or another warrior would only quicken their pace and complicate their moves until the children could attack and defend in their sleep.

Peter, the appointed leader by Aslan, had sent out scouts and spies to find out about the witch's whereabouts and plans. The sun had risen and Peter knew the battle was about to start. He, Harry, and Starr went over their plans with everyone several times. There was no room for mistakes in battle. There was only the living and the dead.

"Peter, Peter!" called Ron, running as fast as he could into camp. Ron had been out in the meadow and had climbed the tallest hill that shielded the camp from attacking forces. Once he had gotten to the top it was all too easy to see what lay beyond and what he saw sent a spasm of fear racing in his veins.

"Yes?" inquired Peter, slightly annoyed at Ron for tripping over his own two feet and falling face first into the dirt ground. Honestly, he thought, how in the world could this kid lead any kind of a charge, or for that matter stay alive while he was led in a one. But being polite as he was, Peter waited for Ron to continue.

"It's her! The White Witch is on the other side of that hill!"

"How many?"

"What?"

Peter rolled his eyes and tried again. "How many beasts does she have with her?"

"Millions, maybe even a billion!" Ron exclaimed.

"So a hundred then?" Harry mocked.

Ron gave him a dark glare.

"For crying out loud, someone go and tell me more information!"

Three dwarves accompanied by three fawns ran to the top of the hill and when they came back and the information told, Peter quickly set to work tweaking plans, making new ones, and throwing others right out the window.

Although Ron had exaggerated a bit, the general information had stayed the same. The witch had thousands, but not millions and they were three miles away. Looking down from that hill you could see much of Narnia, occasional small hills jumping out at you. Aslan's army had been watching the witch's. It had been noon before the witch's army had started marching towards the Stone Table, towards Aslan's Camp. But time was still on their side.

Finally, when the sun was just starting it's decent down but was still high in the sky, Aslan's Army was ready, well, as ready as they would ever be.

Peter was leading in front, Starr right behind him. Peter rode a pure white unicorn, his white mane blowing steadily in the wind, his gait crisp and steady. Behind him galloped twenty centaurs and behind them over a hundred and fifty beasts. Harry and Edmund were directing another group of over a hundred on the East and West side of the hill. Peter's army was marching right up the middle.

When the three forces reached the top Peter would give the order and both Edmund's and Harry's forces would fire arrows into the sky. The griffins and eagles would drop down massive boulders upon the enemy as the three forces raced down the hill to battle.

The three forces were just about to reach the top. Peter's blood started pulsing through his body as if he was on some kind of drug. His thoughts raced and he had to fight to keep them from becoming hazy.

This was it. There seemed to be a final breath before the three forces made that last step to the top of the hill and fell into place. Then Peter looked down to face his enemy for the first time.

( )

Susan watched as her two brothers climbed the hill. She would be leading another group of archers as soon as they reached the top. Everyone was ready, everyone but her. Pansy and Draco were to be the last force. They would go around the hill and attack from the ground as soon as Peter's force had reached the bottom. They were ready as well.

"Lucy!" she yelled. "Lucy!"

Everyone had been swept away when Ron had come bearing news, and in the moments of hectic supervised chaos that followed Lucy had disappeared. Susan could guess where her little sister had taken off to, but now there was a battle, and Lucy could run straight into it.

Everyone was pretty certain that the witch's army wasn't all down at the bottom of the hill. Some still might be roaming about, ready to attack the camp and if that was so, they would get Lucy.

A cold reminder of what it felt like to have a sibling being held captive by the witch was nearly unbearable. Susan couldn't chase after her; she had a force to lead up the hill in only seconds. All she could do was hope Lucy would be alright, but something told her Lucy wasn't coming back anytime soon with Hermione.

Suddenly quiet sounded so loud that everyone looked at the top of the hill, hearts pounding. They all knew what it meant. The battle was about to begin.

**Sorry about the extreme lateness. I have a virus on my computer that won't let me be on the internet. So, I may try to use my parent's computer but that's unlikely since they have Windows 2000 and they live on 6****th**** Ave while I live on 35****th**** Ave.**

**Review?**


	18. Battle

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 18 Battle**

Peter's eyes grew wide, his body became rigid, and fear overwhelmed him. His first look down the hill had startled him so much that he almost fell off his unicorn. Certain that he was delusional Peter shut both his eyes, counted to three and reopened them, but to no avail.

Thousands of wretched looking creatures came to a sudden stop as Peter appeared. The sea of beasts covered almost half of the valley below, a hill half the size of the one Peter was on completing the circular basin that would become the battlefield.

Peter's unicorn snorted, stomping his feet, bringing Peter back to reality. This was no time to panic. He looked to the left, Edmund nodded. He looked to the right, Harry nodded. He looked behind him, Starr grinned, his hooves prancing in place.

"Well, than. I guess this is it," Peter said to himself.

He sat straight and tall, ready for the charge. His unicorn reared up, Peter raising his sword high above him.

"Is this the day Narnia shall sing about to their children?" Peter yelled, turning his unicorn to face his troops.

"YES!"

"Is this the war that shall mark the end of the witch's rein?"

'YES!"

"Is this the battle that will hold the witch's army accountable for the blood of Aslan, for his humiliating torture and his agonizing death?"

"YES!" came the reply, louder than ever before.

"Then for Narnia and for Aslan!"

As Peter's unicorn reared up one more time, Peter's sword in the air, he gave the signal and arrows were heard flying through the air and into their targets. Then Peter began his charge.

As Peter began the decent the White Witch began to race forward to meet him halfway, both armies yelling and shouting, their voices getting louder with each step closer. Swords were drawn, shields put in place, and determination wound its way through both armies, the gap getting smaller and smaller.

Then, just before the two armies clashed, the whole field seemed to go deaf. Peter didn't hear his heart's pounding, his unicorn's breathing, his troops' yells, or the boulders hitting the ground, taking out some of the enemy, as the griffins and eagles glided by. The second that separated Aslan's and the witch's armies seemed to slow down, stretching out time, making it seem like his unicorn's leap into the sea of beasts was hanging in midair.

_BOOM_

Sound and time started up the moment the two armies clashed. It was like being suddenly awaken from a peaceful dream. As reality came back to him a sudden thought rushed into his head. Peter started scanning the battle. Everyone had found at least one thing to fight with, the fight ending when one went down. Starr jumped into the air and landed on a mean looking ox that had nearly gotten a dwarf. Upon landing, Starr unsheathed another sword and started battling a bear-like beast.

Looking to the right, Peter glanced Harry riding upon a beige horse attacking anyone within range with his flail. Their eyes met for only a second before the two of them went back to work, slaying the witch's army.

Peter glanced behind him, blocking a blow made by a surprising-looking creature. His body was of a crocodile, but from the chest up he was a man with two arms on each side and huge ears. As soon as the sword of the crocodile man was thrown from his grasp Peter's unicorn reared up again. As his body was thrown upward Peter caught a glance of Edmund. He was battling two dwarves, his sword flying with precision.

As Edmund became lost amongst the crowd Peter saw what was scaring his unicorn. A bat was fluttering around, inches above the ground, diving this way and that. It was obvious it couldn't do any harm, so ignoring the pest he focused on a bull charging his way.

The bull raised his ugly sword to deliver a nasty blow, but Peter was ready and blocked it with his shield. Although he thought his arm was broke, his shield didn't even show a dent. Peter swung his unicorn around ready to attack at any opportunity, but just when he saw one he felt something bite him on the arm.

Peter twisted around to see what bit him. But there was nothing. Twisting back in the nick of time, Peter blocked another blow from the bull.

The unicorn helped Peter shove the bull away and off balance. Peter rushed in for the kill, but again, as soon as his sword was raised, he felt another bite, only this time on his neck. Had it been less painful Peter would have ignored it, but the bite made him feel like his neck was on fire.

In his hesitation, the bull regained his composure and ran into Peter and his unicorn, knocking them both down. As Peter fell, he received another bite on the arm. He hit the ground, this unicorn on top of him. Peter pushed himself away from the unicorn and stood up, his sword ready in his hand.

The bull and he circled around, several beasts getting in the way. Whether or not they were for Aslan or the White Witch made no difference to the bull as he pushed, stuck, or sliced them. But during all this, the bull didn't miss a beat, leaving no room for a sword to stab him.

As another creature fell backwards about to hit the bull, the bull ran forward towards Peter. Peter raised his shield but a moment later it had fallen as a bite was delivered to his finger.

With no time to waste, Peter dived to the ground, the bull's sword just missing his head. As Peter got up on his knees, he saw what was doing the biting.

The little bat was flying around him, its mouth open and full of teeth.

Rolling his eyes, Peter stood up, trying to keep both the bull and the bat in his line of vision. As the bull charged again, the bat flew up and tried to give Peter another bite on the finger; but Peter was ready and with one fluid motion of his sword, sliced the bat in two. As he spun around to face the bull Peter jumped down to deliver a blow to the bull's legs.

The bull lost his balance and fell to the floor where Peter stabbed him where his heart should have been. So when the bull got back onto his feet Peter's face fell, losing some of its color.

"Not fair."

The bull had death gleaming in his eyes and snorted, mucus slightly dripping from his snout. Again, the bull lunged at Peter, who side-stepped with ease. They both turned around to face each other again.

Peter swung back as he heard a scream and instantly a fawn bumped into him, falling to the ground.

Peter saw the fawn's killer run towards him, but Peter ducked his swing and stabbed him in the chest, throwing the dead body into the bull. Peter rushed for his chance to kill the bull. He raised his sword high into the air, and with all his might he sliced the bull's head off.

Peter stared at the bodies for a second before his unicorn pushed him back into battle. He sighed as he saw another bull rush towards him.

( )

Maugrim walked briskly in the forest, stopping every now and then to listen to his surroundings. He had watched both armies run into each other, becoming a meaningless blob. Although he would have loved to be in battle with his comrades, his Majesty had other plans for her faithful servant.

Her words lingered in his mind, making his every step more determined.

"_Then this is what you must do, but remember, if you fail me this time, pain and death will be your only reward."_

Maugrim gulped. The Queen made it quite clear she gave no second chances. He had to do the job right the first time. There was no other option.

And his job?

It was really quite simple. All he had to do was sneak into camp and find the golden crown. He had never heard of this crown but the White Witch apparently had. It had belonged to the great kitty that was dead, his corpse laying on the Stone Table. The crown was made entirely out of gold and had gems, diamonds, and rubies in it. The crown was outlined by silver and a silver lion was embedded into the front of the golden crown.

Once found, all he had to do was bring it back to camp for his Majesty. But for some reason he had a feeling it wasn't going to be that easy, simple maybe, but not easy.

**So, what is this golden crown and will Maugrim be successful at retrieving it? And what about Peter and his knack of fighting bulls?**

**Stay tuned next week for, A Different Fate, chapter 19. 7-8 pm central time.**

**The founding for this program comes from those who review and readers like you. And presented by the letter C and the number 8.**


	19. Was, Is, And Will Be

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 19 Was, Is, And Will Be**

Noise, loud horrific noise rose in the air, consuming everyone who could hear it. But it was not just a noise, it was also a taste: bitter. It was also a feeling: cold and clammy. But what it was most of was emotion: fear engulfed in hatred.

However, the noise, taste, feeling, or emotion was nothing compared to the fighting that caused it.

Draco led his force straight towards the fighting knowing Pansy was doing the same opposite him. They had snuck around the hill and now were in a full gallop, or at least all the horses and centaurs were. The soldiers running behind them were in a dead run but it didn't compare to a gallop.

For a brief moment Draco grinned, thinking how he was so much better. He wasn't running, he was riding. Riders probably lived to tell the tale more often than runners.

The thought all but vanished as his black stallion galloped only a few yards away from the noise, the fighting. Just before his horse crashed into the enemy, Draco raised his sword, ready to strike down anything in his way.

"For Aslan!"

Draco yelled that as the two forces crashed, the men in his force either striking down an opponent or being struck down by one. There was no more time to think. As the saying went, there was but to do or die.

Draco was only aware of one thought: Aslan had died for _him_, and Draco was willing to die for Aslan. But he wasn't going down alone.

( )

If I were a golden crown, where would I hide? Maugrim thought. It was a silly question but one couldn't be too careful. Maybe if he thought ahead he would make it alright. It couldn't be that hard to snatch a golden crown while everyone was off playing war. But Maugrim had learned to never underestimate anything. Ever.

Maugrim looked down upon Aslan's camp. The one thing that stood out the most among the camp was Aslan's tent.

That would be a perfect place to look for it. And best of all, he didn't see anyone there. The wry wolf smiled to himself, a small chuckle escaping him.

Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

( )

Hermione had stayed with Aslan all night. She hadn't felt the chill of the wind until sometime after Susan, Pansy, and Lucy had gone. But once she did she instantly wished she had grabbed a jacket or something to keep her warm.

Just as the morning was evenly matched with the night, battling for the sun to shine and the stars to dim, Hermione dozed off, her hand still petting her beloved Aslan.

Something touched her.

Hermione sleepily brushed whatever it was off her face. It touched her again. With a sigh she again swatted at the disturbance but it still touched her. With much annoyance Hermione opened her eyes and was about to slap the wretched thing when she noticed what it was.

Her hair.

She sat up, shook her head causing her bushy brown hair to flow into the wind and away from her face, and looked around.

Nothing had changed. The ground either held dead or dying grass or dirt. The Stone Table was still in front of her and lying on top was Aslan. She gasped and tears started flowing again at the sight of the lifeless lion. He looked so much worse in the sunlight than the moonlight.

Her stomach growled and suddenly she felt famished. Looking up at the sky Hermione realized how late it was. The sun was already on its way down. The battle would probably already be in motion, but that didn't seem to bother her. In fact she didn't seem to care about anything, not even her hunger.

Her gaze went to Aslan again. Wiping away her tears, Hermione stood up and sat next to Aslan, stroking his neck and behind the ears.

_SNAP_

Hermione jerked her head up and looked into the forest. Something was out there. Looking more intently she saw movement. A small branch started swaying back and forth. The grass seemed to be dancing more fiercely than before. She could hear the tiny green-brown blades being crunched. Slightly to her left, another small branched bobbed up and down and more little crunches were heard.

Hermione's heart raced, her blood pounded inside of her, urging her to flee. But Hermione's feet couldn't move. She sat frozen next to Aslan's body, her breathing came to a halt when the creature was almost ready to lunge out of the trees.

Maybe Lucy was right, maybe they were coming back for His body. They probably weren't expecting someone to be with Aslan, but she was only a girl, a girl without anything to defend herself with.

What would it do to her? Or what if it was more than just one? Maybe it was two or three?

Hermione forced herself to look around for some place to hide, but there was nowhere, nothing. The only trees were in front of her, being occupied by the enemy. The only stone or rock big enough to hide behind was the Stone Table, and that was where the enemy was going to. Maybe if she started running she could find a hiding place before they caught her.

Just as she was about to jump up and start running the creature stepped out of the trees and into plane view.

"LUCY!"

"Hi Hermione. What's wrong?"

Hermione's hand flew to her heart as none other than Lucy Pevensies stepped through the brush. She had started breathing again, using her breath to say a few selected of words to herself.

Glaring at Lucy, who was jogging towards the Stone Table, Hermione spat, "You could have at least told me it was you."

"Well, who did you think it was?"

Sometimes, as cute as she was, Hermione just wanted to jinx that little girl. Smiling to herself, she thought of which one she would use. Maybe _Vogillo_: that would make Lucy talk in a ridiculous French accent. _Castreo_ was always effective, well, only if you were a male, which Lucy wasn't. _Epileptus_ would make her flash different colors. Laughing quietly, Hermione let Lucy hug her. Maybe, it was a good thing they didn't have their wands. Not that Ron could do any of those. Harry probably couldn't either, but then again, neither one of them ever read.

"Oh!" Lucy clasped a hand over her mouth as she looked at Aslan for the first time since last night. "It looks so very much…Aslan….horrible…the wretched cruel…"

"I know," Hermione whispered, putting an arm around the girl.

Jerking away from the sight, Lucy forced herself to remain calm, like Peter. Somehow her oldest brother could handle anything. She sat down crossed-legged and started plucking the few tiny blades of grass nearby. Susan followed suit.

"Lucy?"

"Hm…"

"We should go back."

"What! And leave Him for…for…_her_?" Lucy stared, shocked at the proposition.

"He's gone. He isn't, you know," Hermione tried, trying to find the right words, "_in_ there."

Lucy glanced at her lion.

"Everybody has a soul. No matter what, the White Witch can't ever get that. And that's the most important part of a person…being."

With a heavy sigh Lucy nodded and stood up, helping Hermione stand as well. The two girls started walking slowly away from the Stone Table, Hermione's arm over Lucy's shoulder again.

They were almost at the end of the dirt and dying grass and about to step into the brush when they heard a very loud noise. It sounded like something very hard and solid snapped in half.

Twirling around two jaws dropped, two sets of eyes nearly popped out, and two hearts all but stopped working for an instant.

There, standing right in front of them stood a massive lion. His golden main flew wildly in the sudden gusts of wind. His legs bulged with muscle and the lion's stance was that of a victorious conqueror. The lion's teeth were sharp and gleaming but it was the lion's eyes that captured the two girls, mesmerizing them. They looked so familiar, so happy and powerful.

"ASLAN!" cried Lucy, running towards her beloved lion.

"Lucy!" Hermione hissed, grabbing the little girl's arm. "That…it can't be. It's impossible." Hermione saw the Stone Table. It had been split in half.

"I tell you in truth, nothing is impossible, Hermione Granger," came the sweetest voice that the two girls had ever heard.

"But, you…He died."

"Yes He did," the lion said sadly, bowing its neck slightly, but rising it tall and proud the lion proclaimed loudly, "but now He lives!"

"Oh, Aslan," Lucy cried again, escaping from her captor's grip and raced to meet her lion, Aslan.

"How?"

It came out scarcely more than a whisper but the lion heard it as clear as a bell.

"Come, my dear. Caress my main, feel my warm breath against your skin and doubt no more."

Hesitantly, Hermione made her way to the great lion. She cautiously reached up to pet the golden curls and she shivered as the lion's breath touched the back of her neck. Tears filled her eyes and she fell to her knees.

"Aslan, it's really you. Oh Aslan, I'm so sorry," she wept.

Aslan nuzzled her. "Death can never last forever. Light will always brush away the darkness. For I was, is, and will be."

"Now what?" Lucy asked.

Aslan chuckled. "Now we join in the fight."

"But, I haven't got my crossbow or arrows and Lucy doesn't have her dagger," protested Hermione.

"That is easily remedied," Aslan answered patiently.

Giggling Lucy added, "Well, if He could defeat death I'm sure a few items can't be that hard to get."

"So, we're going into battle," Hermione said. A smile crossed her face. "That's just what we need. There's no way…" but she was cut off.

"We're not going into battle," Aslan contradicted.

"But you just said so yourself."

"I said that we'll join in the fight. You will understand soon enough, but time is of essence. Climb upon my back and we'll be off.

"Is it safe?" Lucy asked.

"It is safe enough, or do you not trust me?" Aslan purred. With a wide smile both girls hopped upon his back. "Now put your hands to your ears, for this roar will be greater than ever before." The girls quickly did as Aslan said.

With the authority of a thousand kings and the power of thousands of lions, Aslan shook his main and let out a great and terrible roar.

**I'm so happy that I can update again. It's been pretty depressing not being able to update and do computer junk. I still have viruses, so it may take a little while to update again, but at the moment I can use the internet again without it shutting down on me. Lol**

**Maybe if you review, all the viruses will go away. …It's worth a shot…**

**~Huggles~**


	20. The Brave Little Mouse

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 20 The Brave Little Mouse**

Left, right, then left again. And then just to be doubly cautious Maugrim looked left, right, and again left. Nobody, nothing: The coast was clear.

His silent steps lead him to the main pathway that Aslan's camp used, the one that led straight to His tent. Tail down, ears pricked up, claws at the ready, nose smelling every little aroma, and hesitant but firm steps, Maugrim made his way to the colorful tent, his eyes carefully searching for the slightest hint of danger.

_SNAP_

Maugrim jerked back, his head instantly looking behind him. He couldn't find anything. Then he looked down at his paws. With great relief he saw a broken twig. Glancing around quickly again he started to continue the few steps to His tent, but just a bit more vigilant of where he placed his paws.

Then, with one wary breath, Maugrim slipped inside the lion's tent and began his search of the golden crown.

( )

"Ron!"

Ron swung around, carelessly waving his tomahawk in the air, barely missing Susan's head. As a killer glare bore into his soul, Ron realized his mistake and shrugged it off.

"It wouldn't have hurt you, you know. It's only sharp for enemies."

"Yes, but a blunt axe still hurts. That's obvious," Susan stated as she sent one of her arrows into the hand of a giant. Looking at his hand, the giant kicked at the ground, missing all but two foot soldiers, both of which were on the giant's side.

"Actually," Ron grinned, hitting a small creature with fangs the size of his hand in the head with his shield, "I did hit one fawn. He was quite mad but he didn't die or anything."

"Ron, really," Susan gawked, reminding him of Hermione. He wondered where she had gotten off to. Was she still with Aslan's body?

"Um, Susan?"

"What?" She sent a quick glance to Ron before stabbing a dwarf in the eye then stringing the arrow to fall another one of her victims. Blindly the dwarf walked right into Ron's tomahawk as Ron got distracted.

"RON!"

"What?" Looking at the dwarf stuck to his tomahawk he understood. "Oh, well, yeah. I meant to do that."

"Sure."

"I did," he said defensively, trying to get his axe out of the dwarf's head, each tug only shaking the lifeless body more hectically.

"Duck!" Susan screamed, falling to the ground.

Ron looked around confused. "Duck?"

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than something solid collided with his face, sending him backwards to the ground, blackness threatening to take over.

"Ron!" she cried, racing towards him. "Are you alright? How bad is your head? Oh, you look horrible."

Rubbing his head, Ron glared at the older girl kneeling beside him. He immediately wished it was Hermione.

"I think I'll live," he managed, dramatizing his pain. Ron tried to sit up, but no sooner had his head left the ground than everything started spinning and darkening and his head hit the ground again.

"You go. Save yourself. I…I don't think I was meant to make it."

"Honestly," Susan helped him sit up, leaning his head on her shoulder, something Ron had dreamed he could do to another female.

"Ow," came his reply.

"Ron, you could have died! Why didn't you duck?"

Pulling away Ron looked slightly embarrassed. "I thought you meant you saw a duck," he admitted sheepishly.

"Susan! Ron!" came a voice, breathing heavily.

"Edmund!" Susan yelled to her little brother. Looking around she saw the battle closing in on them. She wondered how nobody had spotted them before Ed.

"You two alright?" he asked in concern, seeing the left side of Ron's face turning a bright black and blue.

"Yeah, I'll make it…with luck," Ron groaned.

"You're such a baby," Susan mocked, rolling her eyes, but she smiled at him all the same.

"C'mon," Edmund ordered, holding out his hand and helping Ron up with his sister's help. "Peter said we need to fall back. You got to find Harry, Draco, and Pansy and tell them the news."

"What about Lucy?" Ron inquired.

"Yes, do you know where she is?" Susan asked hopefully, letting loose another arrow.

"I thought you did?" Edmund asked, fear gripping every part of him. "She shouldn't even be in this," he waved his hands around indicating the battle. "Susan!"

"I don't know, Ed. She disappeared right before…" her voice trailed off, guilt rising throughout her entire body.

"Lucy might be with Hermione," offered Ron, giving hope to the two siblings.

"I think that's where she went off to," Susan agreed.

"I hope so. We'll find her."

Putting his hand on Ron's shoulder in farewell, Edmund ran off into the blazing battle, slicing an arm off with one fluid motion, not missing a step, and disappeared.

Picking up his tomahawk off the ground Ron wondered how it had gotten out of the dwarf's head. Looking up into the sky he saw a griffin fall to the ground, arrows piercing the winged creature all over.

"I'm sure Lucy is fine," Ron tried to comfort Susan. "She's smart and the witch is too interested in this battle. Not about…" Ron couldn't make himself say Aslan. Aslan was dead, but the truth still hurt too much. "We'll find her. Hermione will keep her safe in the meantime."

With a small smile Susan muttered thanks. Then she turned around and left, looking for Harry, Draco, or Pansy. Ron gripped his axe tighter and made his way into the battle.

Where was Harry when you needed him?

( )

"What should we do?" whispered Mrs. Beaver. She, her husband, and Mr. Winkle, along with four other small creatures that had stayed back at the camp were watching a wolf sneak its way somewhere. Mrs. Beaver swung her head back around the corner of the tent where the seven of them were entangled with each other, trying to get a better view.

"Why, I oughta," started Mr. Winkle but was shushed instantly when Mrs. Beaver put her paw over his mouth.

"It's going inside Aslan's tent!" hissed a squirrel, alarm and astonishment nearly overwhelming the poor animal.

"How dare he?" sniffed Mrs. Beaver, tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought of their protector, who would never protect again.

"Well, somebody has to do something," Mr. Beaver said pleadingly. His gaze fell on the mouse next to him, the only mouse he had ever known, Mr. Winkle.

"He's a wolf!" the mouse squeaked, stretching out his arms to indicate how big the wolf was compared to himself. "Why, that monster could do me in if he inhaled too deep."

"You're the tiniest," argued Mr. Beaver. "That wolf looks too occupied to notice something half a foot tall. You could always use a toothpick."

"A toothpick?" asked the squirrel.

"Yeah, it's something humans use to clean between their teeth. Like when a nutshell gets stuck between your two front teeth, you can use the toothpick to pick it out of your tooth."

"And you want me to stab the wolf with a toothpick?" Mr. Winkle glared.

"Well, it's an option."

"Not unless by some miracle there happens to be a toothpick within range," Mr. Winkle grumbled. "I don't even know what one looks like."

"What about this?" asked the squirrel, holding up a small twig.

"Perfect!" Mr. Beaver clasped his hands together to keep from clapping them in glee.

"No. No way am I going to fight off a wolf using a _twig_!"

"Chicken," mocked Mr. Beaver folding his arms to look like chicken wings, imitating Ron while he and Harry were practicing with their weapons a few days back.

"I don't see you backing me up."

"Why, how could you say such a thing?" Mr. Beaver asked, shocked that his friend could say such a hurtful thing. "You know I'll always back you up."

"Really? You're just standing there."

"In spirit, my friend, in spirit."

"Oh, thanks. That makes me feel so much safer already."

( )

"Stop where you are, you mangy canine!"

Maugrim stopped his search for the golden crown and turned around, terrified at what he might see.

Nothing. He saw nothing.

Then his nose caught the scent of a creature. Following the scent, the wolf looked down. About a yard and a half away was a mouse! And to make it even better, it was holding out a twig, his arm shaking so bad it looked like he was waving it around like an old dwarf waving his cane at some young nipper-snapper. This was going to be good.

"Now you listen to me and nobody will get hurt," the mouse squeaked, his words trembling just as bad as the twig.

"Haha. Very funny," laughed the wolf, as if the mouse were a comedian of some short. "Now you listen to me." Maugrim let out a fierce growl, much like a roar but with a bark.

Just as he thought, the mouse flew up into the air, hair standing straight up, eyes nearly popping out of its small furry head, tail perfectly adjacent to the ground. But what surprised him was the fact that when the mouse returned to the floor he didn't scamper away. Instead he stayed put, his entire body shaking with fear.

"Oh? In case you didn't realize it, this is when you go running away, screaming bloody murder for your dear life."

"Oh, r-r-really n-now? I th-thought that was w-what you were sup-pose to d-do."

"The brave mouse," chided Maugrim. "Isn't that a bit contradictory? Oh, I'm so afraid of the tiny brave mouse holding a stick."

"It's a twig!"

Taking a few steps closer the wolf lowered his head to the same level as the mouse.

"BOO!"

The mouse jumped again, whimpering a little.

Aggravated now Maugrim yelled, "MOVE!" But the tiny little rodent didn't' budge.

"Then I'll consider you a tasty treat!" Lounging forward Maugrim snapped at the mouse. And this time, it ran. It ran for all its life, a small scream escaping its lips.

**Yup. I think I've decided on a slightly different ending. So if something contradicts anything from previous chapters, PLEASE let me know. I've tried re-reading the chapters again (correcting mistakes but haven't changed them on here yet) for the millionth time. Lol**

**Thanks for the feedback.**

…**oh wait! I almost forgot to say something extremely stupid to try and get someone to review. Heh. All well. The extremely stupid saying to get someone to review **


	21. Ron's Tale

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 21 Ron's Tale**

"Oh dear," Ron muttered, his anger starting to affect every part of him, "Whatever happened to The Boy Who Lived? Yeah right! More like The Boy Who Cannot Be Found By His Suppose To Be Best Friend!" Ron quickly dropped as an arrow flew right over his head.

"Maybe you should be a bit more careful, ya mangy stinking slobbering thing!" Looking with great disgust, Ron avoided the puddle of slobber coming from a miniature giant. Ron had always thought it would be funny if such a thing actually did exist. It looked just like a giant only smaller, more human size, but its brains were smarter, but not by much. Miniature giants excelled at one thing, the one thing they were obsessed about. This one was clearly obsessed about archery.

"Oi!" An ax fell to the ground right in front of him. Picking it up he mumbled, "Is everyone in this battle stupid?"

He soon found use for the ax, chucking it in the back of a really ugly two-legged creature. Glaring at the dying thing he grumbled a few profanities and went along his way, yelling out Harry's name as he went.

"You did a no-no," came a deep voice.

Stopping, Ron looked around for the voice, and then with a bad feeling he looked up. Not four feet away stood a giant, quite smaller than the rest, but a giant nonetheless and not a miniature giant either. The ten-foot giant had a greenish tint to him and his ears were way too small. However, the giant's eyes were perfect both in size and vision.

"You got a problem?" Ron challenged, his mood not lightening in the slightest.

"You did a no-no," the giant repeated.

"Yes, so you have already said."

"No doing no-nos!" Then with a mighty arm the giant lifted his club high above his head and swung it down, missing Ron by mere inches as he dove to the ground.

"Hey!" Ron called up, "That is a no-no. No hitting Ron!"

The giant was about to swing at Ron again, but he stopped and thought about what Ron had just told him. For a mere second he fought over what his orders were. Then the giant made up his mind. Smiling, the giant swung his club again, this time it connected with Ron's shoulder.

Ron came tumbling down to the ground and rolled twice before coming to a stop. But before he could get his bearings he saw the club rushing towards him again. Instinctly, he rolled over and got to his knees.

"No! Bad!" the giant scolded. "You no move!"

"You nearly dislocated my shoulder!" Ron yelled back, watching the club as it swung yet again towards him.

This time Ron was ready. As the club was about to strike him, Ron ducked. Once it passed he hopped up and with a mighty war cry that sounded more like a cry of a boy who moved his dislocated shoulder the wrong way, sliced the giant's foot.

The next thing Ron knew, he was up in the air going backwards. Then he was falling. The impact of meeting the ground after being kicked by a giant knocked him senseless. Trying to clear his head, Ron groped the ground. A groan escaped him as he turned over to his stomach. Shaking his head again, he tried to focus on something.

"I make you fly!" squealed the giant, all anger gone replaced with a childish amusement. "I make you fly again."

Struggling to see straight, Ron tried to grab his tomahawk, but it was just out of his reach. He could feel the earth shake as the giant bounded over to kick him again. And again he reached out, pushing himself closer, but every little move made his ribs yell in pain.

His heart stopped when the earth calmed down and a huge shadow fell across him. With one last grab at his weapon, Ron snatched it and swung it into the giant's foot as it came downwards to kick him. But things never go as planned.

( )

"Aslan, where are we going?" asked Lucy. She, Hermione, and Aslan raced faster than she had ever gone across the meadows and small valleys, climbing up steep hills as if Aslan was dancing on clouds.

Aslan leapt across a small stream. Both Lucy and Hermione let out a small scream, but it was more out of excitement than fear, but all the same Hermione tightened her grip on Lucy and Lucy to Aslan.

"There are those who wish to fight against the White Witch yet again."

"But everyone who is on your side and able to fight are already there," protested Hermione.

"All those who are able, but there are those who are not yet able," Aslan replied.

Just then, He reached the top of the hill and their destination drew gasps from the girls.

"That's the White Witch's Castle," Lucy breathed.

Although no one could see it, Aslan smiled.

Within minutes, Aslan had ran all the way to the entrance, the sinister gate a reminder of the injustice that Aslan would remedy. The great lion nudged the gate with his nose and as if unlocked, the gate swung open and Aslan walked inside.

As soon as he had entered, Aslan stopped. The girls slid off his back and stared at all the statues.

"The poor things," Lucy grieved. Hermione hugged her and glanced at Aslan.

The King of Narnia looked solemn, as if he had known each and every creature that had been turned into stone within the witch's graveyard. His head was bowed and a few tears dripped down his perfect face.

Walking around, both girls were reminded of the price of freedom and their hearts grew heavy. Hundreds of statues seemed to stare at them through stone eyes, their silenced screams sounding in their ears.

"Aslan!" Lucy gasped. She had stopped dead in her tracks; her hands covered her mouth, her eyes wide in shock. Standing before her was the statue of Mr. Tumnus. "Oh Aslan. He was my friend."

"As he is mine," Aslan said. Lucy caught the tense change wondering what the great lion meant.

He walked over to the fawn and a small smile formed. Then with a great breath Aslan blew the breath of life on the statue. In only seconds He heard two gasps. The statue of Mr. Tumnus seemed to melt away, leaving in its place the real living Mr. Tumnus.

"Oh," groaned the fawn. His arms went to his sides instead of staying in the air guarding his face and his face no longer held a face of fear. Then his scarf turned back to red and moved softly in the wind. Looking around Mr. Tumnus noticed Lucy first.

"What are you doing here?"

Lucy couldn't talk but she didn't have to. She ran over to the fawn and gave him a hug.

"How did you do that?" Hermione questioned in amazement.

In reply the lion only smiled.

Noticing Aslan for the first time Mr. Tumnus froze, his eyes wide.

"Aslan, I scarce believe my eyes."

"Then believe your heart, Mr. Tumnus," Aslan told him.

The fawn knelt down and bowed his head.

"Rise, for you have earned my respect," Aslan purred softly.

Aslan walked to the nearest statue and again with a mighty breath he blew the breath of life onto that statue. And just like Mr. Tumnus that statue seemed to melt into a living creature, only this time it was a griffin.

Within moments all the statues had become living creatures again, talking, laughing, and moving. The news of what was going on spread quickly among them and they voiced their desire to end the reign of the White Witch and join the battle.

Aslan's voice broke through the small crowd. "We shall fight in battle, but there are those inside who wish to fight as well, and not all of them are on her side."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked a chipmunk. "Let's go get em!"

Needing no more encouragement, the creatures stormed the castle following Aslan, capturing the witch's followers and watching in wonder as Aslan freed those captive inside.

Much to the surprise of Lucy and Hermione, right inside the castle lay Hermione's medieval crossbow and her quiver of arrows and Lucy saw her dagger with the small diamond bottle.

"How did they end up there, on that round table by the entryway?" Lucy asked. Feeling foolish she instantly knew the answer. Aslan.

( )

Draco cursed his bad luck. Three trolls, one ogre, two bulls, and too many creepy dwarves to count had all been slain, needless to say by him. But this was just ridiculous.

It would have been a tiger except instead of two eyes it had one and instead of paws it had dragon-like claws. The stripes were black and white except the white turned blue or purple randomly. However, it was smaller than an average tiger, but what it lacked in size it made up by terrifying looks.

The tiger-dragon-thing circled around Draco, a deformed purr coming from the creature. Its teeth were sharp and gleaming but its breath was nearly unbearable.

Gripping his sword for all he was worth, Draco turned around with the beast. Then with a high-pitched scream it lunged at him, its claws shredding part of his sleeve and just missing his skin. The moment it landed it turned its body around and lunged again. This time Draco jumped out of the way.

Circling again, Draco noticed a long cut alongside the underbelly. It wasn't very deep but blood still dripped down the more the cat moved. Waiting for the cat to strike was unnerving, the cut distracting him momentarily.

As if the tiger-dragon-thing sensed his fear it started circling him tighter and tighter and tighter until it jumped at Draco. Using his shield he tried to protect himself from its large claws. Then using all his might, Draco pushed the tiger off of him, slicing at his left leg.

With a scream the tiger pounced on him again, knocking out his breath, and pinning him down for good.

Draco nearly lost the small lunch he had eaten as the cat's breath hit him full on. Trying to breathe he desperately tried to push the tiger off of him, but he couldn't budge it.

With a smile, the tiger used one of its giant claws to swipe across his face but before the cat was able to, its claw along with most of the leg was severed, falling limply to the ground right by Draco's head. The cat screamed and lunged at whoever had saved Draco's life.

Gasping, he sat up. Turning around Draco saw the tiger's head, four feet away from its body. Draco closed his eyes, trying to calm his stomach. He knew he had grown deathly pale, even for him.

"Watch out!"

Draco turned around again just in the nick of time. A giant was stumbling and about to fall on top of him. Trying to roll out of the way was all he could do as the giant's journey to the ground grew to an end.

With a huge thud the giant crashed into the ground, its arm hitting Draco on the back, knocking out his breath just like the beheaded tiger had done.

"Draco!" came a familiar cry. Crawling out from under the giant's arm, Draco saw Pansy running towards him.

She knelt down next to him as he sat up, his shield and sword still clutched in his hands.

"You alright?" she asked with concern.

"When I get my breath back I'll tell you."

With a grin Pansy pulled Draco up. For a moment Draco forgot how to stand and fell against her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"If you didn't have a bloody gash on your forehead this might be romantic," Pansy commented sarcastically.

"Shut up," came a muffled reply. Pansy couldn't help but smile.

"There you two are," huffed a voice.

Both Draco and Pansy twirled around, Draco nearly falling to the floor. Edmund just stared at them.

"If this is the best romantic scene you could come up with you should have at least asked for advice, you know."

"Shut up!"

Grinning, Edmund told the news. "Peter said we have to fall back. If you see Harry, tell him the news."

"Right," Pansy said, unsure what to say and very aware of the funny way Edmund was looking at her and Draco, who was still leaning against her.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well get going!" Edmund replied and ran off, dodging a dagger and stabbing a dwarf.

"You heard what he said," Pansy glared at Draco. "We have to find Harry."

"Or we could just accidently forget and tell everyone else."

"Like it or not, we have to tell Harry. We're not at Hogwarts; we're in the middle of a frickin battle!" She pushed Draco off her shoulder and helped him stand up without toppling over.

"Can you at least come with me so I know you're not dead or something?" Draco pleaded.

"I better or you'll be the one who ends up dead."

Just at that moment an ogre fell between them, causing them both to fall over. With a glare Pansy decapitated it while Draco watched, almost too stunned.

"Draco, you're hopeless."

( )

No sooner had Ron's tomahawk sliced the giant's foot before he felt himself flying through the air again, crashing down hard. As he forced himself to stand up he saw the giant hopping around with his foot in his hands.

Spotting his tomahawk, Ron walked over to it, and picked it up. Noticing a lifeless fawn, Ron stole his small blade out of his hand. With a snide remark, he threw the sword through the air and into the giant's chest, piercing its heart. Within seconds, the giant was dead on the ground.

"That's one nice throw," commented a voice.

Turning around Ron nearly screamed. Instead he used sarcasm.

"Of course you come now. Don't even think of helping out your best mate, The Boy Who Just Randomly Shows Up."

Harry smiled, still impressed with Ron's throw.

"Ron, what's wrong with your shoulder?"

Glaring with venom, Ron turned and started walking away with a slight limp.

"Peter said we need to fall back."

Shaking his head, Harry followed his best friend, "You gunna tell Hermione about that giant?"

Skidding to a stop, Ron twirled around. "Harry, are you mental? Of course I'm telling Hermione I took down a giant…foaming at the mouth…with fangs…and a "Luck of the Irish" T-shirt…"

**Hehe**

**Hehe hehe**

**Hehe hehe hehe**

**Hehe review? hehe**


	22. Dealing With Something Ugly

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 22 Dealing With Something Ugly**

"What should we do?" asked Mrs. Beaver.

The six animals had been watching their friend being chased by a wolf for nearly a minute now. The chase had been thrilling and frightening all at the same time. Mr. Winkle would scamper to some corner only to realize he wasn't really getting away from his predator. Then he would get some stupid idea that never worked, and would end up screaming for his life only to find some other corner.

The chase led in and out of tents, around and around the campfires, some where even lit. Up and down the rows of tents the wolf chased Mr. Winkle. Occasionally, Mr. Winkle would try to hide but it never worked. Several times the six of them could hear the mouse yell a name or phrase, but mostly just the word _help_.

"I think he has everything under control, dear," Mr. Beaver said, patting his wife on the shoulder while never taking his eyes off his furry little friend.

At that moment Mr. Winkle ran into the KP tent. Loud noise followed. Pots and pans of all sizes fell to the floor. Cooking supplies were flung into the air and the two tables toppled over. Then, no more than twenty seconds later the mouse scampered out, the wolf right behind him, an apron attached to him like a cape.

"Well?" inquired one of the squirrels. "What we gunna do?"

"We could go out and distract that dog," offered another squirrel.

"Or we could stay right here, hiding," tried Mr. Beaver.

"Maybe if we all randomly jump out, the wolf would try to chase us but he wouldn't be able to, that might work," Mrs. Beaver suggested.

"Yeah," the second squirrel agreed. "We could try to confuse him. There are six more of us. If we keep popping out of nowhere at just the right time the dog would go after that animal."

"And then another one of us pops up and the wolf chases that one," continued the first squirrel, excitement in his voice.

"Or we could just stay here," Mr. Beaver tried once again. The only reply he got was five dark stares. "Oh very well. The things I do for wife and country."

With a sigh, Mr. Beaver jumped around the corner of the tent and yelled. The wolf's attention went to Mr. Beaver, making it possible for Mr. Winkle to finally run into a tent and into safety for at least a little while. The moment the wolf charged at Mr. Beaver all his courage faded. As he flew past the tent the five others heard a very high pitched scream.

"Heehee," smiled one of the squirrels, "he screams like a girl."

( )

"That bloody wardrobe," Peter cursed. Peter's blade met firmly with a grey two-legged creature that stood at least six foot five. It had long strands of black and dark grey hair that barely covered his scalp, leaving large bald areas. Its long crooked nose kept distracting Peter.

How on Earth can that thing stay on, he thought.

Peter twirled around, losing his thought. Again, Peter's blade met the creature's. Falling backwards, Peter met the ground. Seeing the blade descend on him, he rolled away. Getting to his knees he struck the creature in the leg, leaving a bloody gash.

With a hiss, its blade came down hard against Peter's shield, knocking the blond back to the ground. Another blow to his shield sent the thing flying into the air. It landed a good five feet away. A wicked grin appeared on the ugly grey face as the creature prepared for the kill.

The sword swept towards him. As he rolled away he felt the blade skim his arm. Suppressing a yell, Peter tried to block another blow. It didn't work. Peter's sword fell out of his hand. Before he could do anything, the creature's sword came down on him again. It was too late to roll out of the way.

Peter closed his eyes, but a second passed by and nothing. Another second came and went, yet still nothing. Opening his eyes, Peter stared in astonishment at the creature, dead on the ground.

"Your majesty!" came a loud deep voice.

Turing his head to the right, Peter saw Starr.

"Are you alright?" asked the centaur, concern deeply etched into his voice.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Peter replied, sitting up. Suddenly he felt his arm hurt. It hurt much more than when the creature had nicked him. Looking at it Peter was surprised to see a long cut. "When did this happen?" he wondered out loud.

Starr picked him up from the ground and helped him stand up. Looking around on the ground Starr asked, "Where's your sword and shield?"

"Um," faltered Peter, searching as well. "Well, here's my shield."

"A shield doesn't really do a lot of good without a sword or something," muttered Starr.

While trying to find Peter's sword, Starr saw an ox headed straight for the two of them. Knowing Peter had nothing to effectively defend himself he stood in front of his soon-to-be King of Narnia.

"Stay close to me, but far enough away so you don't get sliced in half by my sword," Starr ordered. Peter looked at Starr's sword. It was huge. The thing was probably as tall as he was and the blade was several times thicker than his own, wherever it was.

"I don't think that should be a problem, if I stand way over there," Peter stated sarcastically.

"Just, don't die."

"Oh really? Why didn't you tell me that little piece of advice before?" Peter glared, his heart racing. The reality of not having a weapon while a huge ox was running towards him with a huge sword just as impressive as Starr's was starting to hit him. "Really, that could have saved me a lot of trouble."

Starr didn't reply. He knew Peter was terrified. He was himself, but it wasn't for him, it was for Peter. Nothing could happen to Peter, and he was the only thing protecting him, the only thing in the way of Peter and death.

Turning around, Peter saw another bull headed their way. With one movement, the bull decapitated a leopard. Without missing a beat the bull stabbed a fawn. It was a little too clear where the bull was headed.

"Ah, Starr."

"Yes?"

"Behind you is a bull, and it's heading straight for us."

Without looking behind him Starr got ready to defend his majesty on both ends.

"This is going to be good," Peter inhaled.

"No," Starr corrected. "This is going to be bad, very very bad."

( )

"Harry!" yelled Ron, "now what?"

Both Harry and Ron were battling a troll. They had devised a plan before they attacked it, but somehow it didn't work. Ron couldn't think of the reason why.

The plan had been simple. Ron attacks the troll from the front while Harry surprises it from the back. Since trolls aren't very smart, and since they had already battled a troll while in the girls bathroom during a year at Hogwarts, there would be nothing to it.

Wrong.

"Harry! This thing isn't dying!" Ron ducked the troll's club and sliced at its ankles.

Harry twirled his flail around and hit the troll in the leg.

"Keep hitting the legs!" hollered Harry.

"This isn't working!" cried Ron seconds later as the troll kicked at him. Ron dived to the left, falling hard onto the ground. Groaning, he sat up, his ribs hurting even worse.

Ron looked up. The troll was nearly on top of him, its foot crashing down inches from where he sat.

"Harry!"

Suddenly the troll stopped and swung around, his club following, hitting Harry on the chest. Harry flew backwards, the breath knocked out of him. As he hit the ground he was sure his ribs were shattered.

The troll made a low hard noise from his throat and turned around to meet Ron.

Ron got to his feet, his tomahawk ready. The two started moving in a circle. Somehow Ron knew this troll wasn't dumb. It knew exactly what it was doing. The club came swooshing downwards at him, and again, he jumped back. Ron tried to come in to the attack, but the club swung back, Ron barely missing it.

Ron ran closer to the troll and forced a giant gash in its leg, causing it to yell in agony. Ron tried to repeat his actions but he was caught off guard. The club crashed into him, sending him to the ground to meet Harry.

Ron found himself on his stomach, trying to remember how to breathe, his chest feeling on fire. He watched as the troll came closer, its club still swinging back and forth. Just as Ron was about to find out if St. Peter really did guard those pearly gates of gold, the troll stopped. It jerked back as if being hit by multiple arrows.

Twisting around, Ron saw why. Susan had come to the rescue, her arrows never missing the giant mass of ugliness. After what seemed like forever, the troll finally fell down, its club landing an inch away from Ron's head.

Ron's thoughts turned to blubber as he stared wide-eyed at the massive piece of lumber right beside him.

"Do I always have to save your life?" Susan smiled, kneeling down beside Ron.

"You haven't saved my life. I'm sure I would have thought of something."

"You sound awful. Can you breathe ok?"

"Kinda," Ron muttered.

"Harry," Susan said, looking at his scar for the first time.

"I'm good," he said, a small smile on his face, but it was all too obvious he was in pain.

"What's that on your forehead?"

"Oh, this," Harry said, pushing away his bangs to reveal his scar again. "I've had this for pretty much ever."

"I hate to be Mr. Raincloud, but we need to get out of here," Ron glared, already on his feet.

Susan helped Harry up. He bent over, his ribs all but killing him.

"I know how you feel mate, but we need to get out of here!" Ron yelled. An overly ugly, smelly, and unaveragely tall bull was stumbling their way.

"We're almost to the hill," Susan said. "If we run, we might not have to face that thing."

Harry almost cried as he looked at the bull and how far away from the hill they really were.

"Susan, Harry, Ron!"

The three turned around. Pansy and Draco were running over.

"You heard the news?" Pansy asked.

"Get up that hill?" Ron asked. "If so, yes."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Draco drawled, a smirk finding its way onto his pale face.

"Oh, you know," Ron glared, "Christmas, Spring Break, my birthday. The usual."

Pansy grabbed Ron's arm and pushed him towards the hill.

"March," she ordered.

"Ow!"

"You'll be feeling more pain than this if that bull gets you."

Without further ado, the five raced to the hill and up its steep slope where most of Aslan's army had already managed to group together.

( )

"Peter!"

Peter twirled around, nearly falling over as Starr was pushed by the ox.

Edmund was racing towards him, stabbing a wolf as it leapt into the air. It fell to the ground with a soft thud. Edmund was still on his way as he pulled his sword out of the wolf's body. Peter was impressed, but with a twinge of jealousy.

"Are you alright?" Edmund panted. "I saw you and that really ugly thing having it out. You fell and by the looks of it, you don't have your sword."

"Right on all accounts."

"Move!"

Edmund shoved Peter away just as Starr stumbled backwards. Gaining balance, Starr charged at the ox, his sword high in the air. The next thing the brothers saw was Starr's sword jerking out of the ox's limp body.

"Oh," Edmund said, bending down to pick something up. "Found your sword." He stood up and tossed his brother's sword to him.

"Thanks."

"Peter, over there," Starr pointed to a tall figure clad in white moving their way.

"The White Witch," Edmund breathed.

"Starr!" Peter yelled, as a centaur raised his blade against his friend.

Before long the two were in an epic battle. Peter and Edmund got out of the way, both finding something to battle against, back to back. It wasn't long, however, before the two were a good distance apart.

As Edmund slue his foe, he felt something slam into him. He turned around just in time to meet the witch's wand. The witch gave him a hard shove backwards. He tripped over a body, falling on top of another. Grabbing the sword next to the body without thinking, Edmund got up, ready for anything.

"Now where is Aslan? Where is your great protector?" The witched smiled. "Oh? He isn't here? He's dead?"

She laughed, and Edmund made his move, but the witch blocked it easily.

"What a pity. He died to save you, but you die all the same."

Suddenly the witch not only had her wand in her hand, but also a sword in the other. She lunged at Edmund, the sword slicing a deep cut in his arm. She tried again, but Edmund blocked her. With a laugh, she pushed him, making him twirl around to avoid being stabbed in the stomach.

The wand flew inches from his head, and her sword inches from his neck, but he ducked, and rolled to the side, wasting no time getting to his feet. He met her sword halfway, then used his other sword to keep her from pulling hers back.

With all his might, Edmund tried to knock her sword out of her hand, but she turned, sending him spiraling to the ground.

The moment he hit the ground so did her sword, so close that it actually cut a little of his hair off. Rolling again to avoid her wand, Edmund jumped to his feet from lying on his back, startling the witch, but not for long.

She swung both her wand and her blade expertly in the air, forcing Edmund to back up and dodge left and right. Edmund caught her sword with his in midair. Suddenly he realized he had lost sight of her wand.

He backed up just in time. Her wand swung at his chest, missing it by mere centimeters. Then he took a swing, but she blocked it effortlessly.

Edmund was nearly out of breath. He swore she was going faster, or maybe he was just going slower, drained of energy. Either way, it was becoming impossible to keep up with the witch. Block after block was all he could seem to do. All the while the witch kept forcing him backwards.

Edmund felt body after body under his feet, tripping and stumbling but never falling over. She took another swing at him with her wand. This time she aimed at his waist. Edmund jumped back. Then he realized what she was going to do, but it was too late. He tried to block her, but it was no use.

The witch laughed menacingly as her sword burrowed deep into his stomach. Peter watched as the witch pulled the sword out of Edmund's stomach with a jerk. Peter's body became numb, his face pale, as he watched Edmund fall over and crumple to the ground.

**Hm…I think this grey creature deserves a name (ex: griffin, fawn, that kind of name). I'll give dancing kudos to whoever comes up with the best name. **

**Creature in question's description: ****a grey two-legged creature that stood at least six foot five. It had long strands of black and dark grey hair that barely covered his scalp, leaving large bald areas. It had a long crooked nose.**


	23. As The Tide Turns

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 23 As The Tide Turns**

"Edmund!"

Without thinking, Peter raced over to meet his brother. He didn't realize the arrows whizzing by his head or the swords that tried to pierce him. The only thing Peter was aware of was his brother's limp body and the witch standing over him.

The White Witch smiled gaily and her laugh was so happy, yet so cold and cruel it nearly made Peter sick. He saw the witch raise her sword, pointed downward to finish Edmund off.

Peter didn't remember how he had gotten there so fast, but just as the witch's strike was inches from Edmund, Peter's sword clashed with hers, forcing the surprised witch backwards and away from Edmund.

"Oh, the brave little hero, defending his brother," cackled the witch, her eyes twinkling. "So much like Aslan," she said with pity.

Peter grinned at the complement. "Never thought I'd say thank you to a witch, but I'm not going to start today."

The two were several feet apart, circling, waiting for the other to strike first.

"Oh, it's not a complement," corrected the witch, "Aslan died in vain. He died to protect that vermin brother of yours, yet there he lies, dead."

"No!" Peter shouted, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. He suppressed an urge to look over at Edmund, to make sure he was still, well, to make sure no one else harmed him. His brother just couldn't be…he just had to be alive still. He just had to.

A sword raced towards his neck and a wand met his sword. Peter ducked and rolled to the side. Getting up was no problem, it was the staying up part that bothered him. No matter how clever he had thought he had gotten with the sword, the witch outmatched him, two to one.

"Why don't you just give up, my little dear," asked the White Witch, her voice calm and collected. "Why prolong the inevitable?"

"You'll never win," Peter spat, finding an opening and taking it.

Blocking it, she added, "If the great and mighty Aslan has been slain by my hand, how much longer do you think you'll really last? A minute, two perhaps?"

"Try sixty some years!"

This time it was Peter's turn to block the witch's strikes.

"Oh, you poor boy," cooed the white wonder, "You have been brainwashed into believing that you are invincible."

"What, jealous?" asked Peter, a small grin on his face.

"Not in the slightest."

Out of nowhere, the witch started complicating her moves, her sword and wand but a blur. Peter couldn't keep track of the two weapons and worse of all, the witch knew it. Her smile showed no sign of fear, only of glory.

It was all Peter could do to block her. He knew this was how the White Witch had beaten Edmund, but he couldn't let her beat him.

Peter kept backing up, careful not to fall down, but there had been some close calls. Luckily he had good balance and was able to maneuver the two of them away from fallen bodies and others still fighting.

Peter risked a quick glance around. Nearly all of Aslan's army was up the hill, but there were still some battling, most of them being centaurs and the bigger creatures. Many of the witch's army were covering the ground, but many more were still in excellent shape.

Peter didn't need it spelled out to him. The witch was going to win unless some miracle happened. However, Peter wasn't sure they existed. Even in this magical land, everything seemed dim and hopeless.

Block after block and again, block after block. She left no openings, no room for mistakes. However, Peter was falling behind, his body draining, his mind starting to lag.

Somehow, a miracle was coming. There had to be. There was nothing left to do but either pray for a miracle or give in, no longer prolonging the promise the witch would keep. Maybe death wasn't so bad after all.

Suddenly, Peter fell over backwards. He hit the ground hard, his sword leaving his hand. Without having to think, Peter rolled over and went to his knees. But he didn't jump to his feet, instead he knelt frozen.

What he saw was his brother. There seemed to be too much blood coming from his body. His little brother had been a traitor, a treat for the witch, yet Aslan took his place. Maybe Aslan knew what he was doing after all. Maybe it wasn't too late for Edmund.

Peter dodged a wand and popped up, any trace of defeat gone. Whether the battle looked slim was of no consequence. A miracle was on its way. Peter didn't know how he knew this, but he did.

Before long, Peter was matching the witch, strike for strike. He didn't miss a beat, but he wasn't as good as she was either. Nothing registered anymore. Peter's mind was a blur.

Without warning, the White Witch's blade sliced his arm, deepening the already deep cut there. The searing pain made it hard to use the arm. Next the witch did something he couldn't explain with her sword and wand. But it didn't matter. Peter had lost sight of the sword.

He dodged her wand, but nearly ran into the missing sword. Peter lunged for the ground, the sword miraculously missing his head. He didn't have time to thank his lucky stars for the sword hit the ground right next to him.

Something had to happen, Peter thought. It had to happen now, because if it didn't he was a goner. But Peter was sure something was going to happen. A miracle was about to take place. And with that knowledge, he jumped up, his sword high in the air, mimicking the witch's.

Abruptly, the White Witch stopped what she was doing in midair. Her face turned so white Peter thought it was about to turn blue.

Then he felt it. It was like a fire burning deep inside him. He felt compelled to look over his shoulder and up the huge hill he had raced down as the battle began. What he saw surprised him, yet he knew this would happen all along.

His miracle stood tall and proud, the sun shining on him, making his whole body look golden. Behind the miracle stood thousands of creatures, all ready to fight.

"Impossible," whispered the witch.

"Nothing's impossible," Peter said, a triumphant smile on his face.

Aslan was alive and had come to finish the fight. Beside him were Hermione and Lucy. Next to Lucy was a fawn with a red scarf.

A low roar escaped Aslan's lips, as if preparing for the finale. And then it came. The lion's roar was so fierce and demanding that even Peter felt terrified, but not in the way the witch did. It was a good terrified. It made Peter respect Aslan, knowing how great the lion really was, but also knowing of the lion's wrath and untamed side. But Aslan's roar also promised Peter, His wrath would never turn against him. Peter felt safe, bewildered, and the most refreshed he had in years. Like waking from a good night's sleep.

"CHARGE!"

Aslan and the creatures started flowing down the hill endlessly.

Then the battle started up again.

However this time, Peter had the upper advantage. His sword flew in the air as if Aslan Himself was directing him. The witch started backing up, her face held fear and disbelief.

Just as Peter was going to deliver the finishing blow, the witch turned around and fled.

( )

Harry, Ron, Susan, Draco, and Pansy had just made it to the top of the hill when everyone froze. The five of them felt a burning deep within them. Looking to the East, they saw why.

Aslan.

They were surprised, yet it was all too obvious this would happen. And when He let out his deep terrifying roar, the five felt as if they had been healed. Harry's and Ron's ribs didn't hurt in the slightest. None of them felt the least bit tired, but they all felt energized and confident.

As a fawn with a red scarf pointed his umbrella towards the battle and yelled charged, reality slammed back into the five of them.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ron asked. Without thinking or even looking around to see if anyone would even listen to him, Ron went into action. "CHARGE!"

Ron raced down the hill, his tomahawk wildly waving in the air. Susan and Harry grinned, yelling as they followed Ron down the hill, everyone else following Ron's lead.

( )

"It's your turn!" prompted Mr. Winkle. "Pop out, yell boo, and run for your life!"

"That thing scares the pickles out of me!" shot back Mr. Beaver, hiding behind a corner while the two squirrels scampered this way and that, the wolf not far behind.

"That's it. You leave me no choice," the mouse said, crossing his arms.

"You-who!" hollered Mr. Winkle, waving his arms high above his head, all two inches above the ground.

"Are you insane?" Mr. Beaver gasped. "That thing…"

Mr. Winkle cut him off. "That thing will eat one of those squirrels if we don't do something."

"Maybe then he won't want to eat us," tried Mr. Beaver.

"You're pathetic. Utterly disgraceful. Not worthy of being called a beaver or my friend."

"Don't go making me feel guilty."

Mr. Winkle grinned. "Don't have to. Look who's coming our way."

"I'm allergic to dogs! Especially that one!"

"Then run!"

There was no point in discussing the matter. The moment Mr. Winkle scampered off, so did Mr. Beaver, the wolf right behind.

Around and around, under and over, through and back to around and around. Mr. Beaver and Mr. Winkle made quite a sight. The wolf didn't know who to chase after. Naturally, he chose the closest, Mr. Beaver.

The beaver slid under a table, panting. A whole five seconds went by before the wolf's nose burrowed under the tablecloth that hung all the way to the ground.

"Oh my, what a big nose you have," Mr. Beaver said.

"It's not my fault I got my great-aunt Edna's nose!" shot back the wolf, clearly insulted.

Mr. Beaver didn't stay long enough to debate the issue.

Soon he found himself trapped. He had most definitely taken a wrong turn and was now racing down an ally of tents. In only moments he would come face to face with a huge dark green and purple tent, the entire tent held down by pins that would be impossible for him to get out. If he didn't get at least one of the pins out, there was no way he could get inside the tent. Despair nearly paralyzed the beaver.

"I got you now, little fur ball," the wolf said.

"Little fur ball?" Mr. Beaver said. "_Little_, fur ball. I have been called many things in my life, but little fur ball has not been one of them! I am not _little_! Mr. Winkle is little, I am medium size! Not big, and most assuredly not _little_!"

"That sounds great. I'm a bit more hungry than I thought. Something little wouldn't do anything, but something, oh let's say medium sized, sure would do the trick."

"In that case, I lied. I am indeed little."

"Stop right there, you big mass of tangled hair!" squeaked Mr. Winkle.

The wolf turned around. "You again? Don't you ever learn?"

"As they say, you can't teach old dongs new tricks, but you can teach mice."

"Not familiar with the last part. However, I have some business to attend to."

"And that is what?" demanded the frisky little thing.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, little mousey, you."

"Well, I guess you ordered me to go, cuz here I go!" Mr. Winkle ran out of the ally, leaving Mr. Beaver in safety.

( )

Maugrim chased the mouse through half the camp, but he stopped short. Something gold and shining was inside one of the tents. Sneakily, he entered. There, right before his eyes rested the crown.

Maugrim chuckled. Now the White Witch would forgive him, or at least let him live. The only thing left was to take it to her. Now that would be a piece of cake.

**I am so happy. I am now officially moved into my very own apartment. Squee :)**

**Hm…all of a sudden I thought of Sherlock Holmes. And now I thought of Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) dressing up as the great detective, Sherlock Holmes. Odd, well anyhow…now I just thought of Dastan, the Prince of Persia. (Jake G is hot, btw.)**


	24. The Second Defeat

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 24 Second Defeat**

Peter looked around, wonder and amazement fighting for domination over his soul. Within minutes of Aslan's miraculous return, the entire battlefield was turned into a field of glory, the battle done, and best of all, won.

Everyone who had strength left was cheering, raising their swords, shields, hands, or whatever they could find up in the air, their voices thunderous, they themselves jumping up and down, dancing, and one even doing cartwheels. It was a glorious sight to behold.

As Peter looked closer, many of those jumping and shouting for joy had tears streaming down their cheeks, their shouts mixed with weeping and laughter.

"Peter!" squealed a high voice. He whipped around and a big smile melted away his grave face.

"Lucy!" The two ran towards each other until Peter picked up his youngest sister for a bear hug. He had never been happier to see her. He would never, ever, wish he was an only child again. Peter knew that dream had nearly become a reality, more like a nightmare he thought.

"So what am I?" Susan said, hands on her hips, a big teasing smile on her face.

"Well, I suppose that makes you…um…"

"A smelly little girl," interrupted Lucy. Peter chuckled.

"I am not smelly," she harrumphed.

"Susan, look," pointed Lucy. Four figures where running their way, whoops and hollers following them, not only by themselves, but by those who they passed by.

"We're heroes, real live heroes!" Ron shouted, his tomahawk twirling in the air.

"I think we should all do a happy dance," informed Harry, his wacky smile in place.

"Potter, you disgust me," Draco drawled, his nose scrunched up. Pansy tried to stifle a laugh, but Draco shot her a glare, which only made her laugh harder.

"Peter," Susan asked in her Susan way, "I hate to ask this, but where's Ed?"

Peter's face paled, whiter than Draco, his eyes grew wide, his mouth turned into a perfect "O". Without a follow me, Peter raced back to where his brother was, his limp body exactly how Peter remembered it.

The small group halted, gasps clearly escaping them. Ron and Harry looked at each other; Pansy threw her arms around Draco, trying not to cry.

"You guys, I've been calling to you to…" Hermione stopped dead in her tracks as she saw what the group was looking at. "Oh my gosh."

Susan was the first to break the small cluster and knelt down by her brother's side. She gently brushed his hair out of his face, and turned him slightly on his back. As soon as she had, she wished she hadn't. There was so much blood, an endless dark red already staining the grass, his clothes, everything.

She wasn't the only one who saw the extent of Edmund's injury. Lucy started crying into Peter's embrace, as Peter stood too stunned for words. Hermione grabbed Ron's arm, trying to steady herself. She looked away trying to breath, her heart pounding as loud as a freight train slamming into a brick wall.

"Peter…" Susan gasped, "Peter, what did you do!"

( )

"Where is that flee infested canine," Mr. Beaver said, boxing the air around him, "I'll turn that little doggie into a fur coat. I'll make him into some kind of gross cheese, I'll…"

"Mr. Beaver!" exclaimed his wife. "That is absolutely discussing and barbarian."

"Dear, you know I wouldn't ever do such a thing, whatever it was, unless you meant the fur coat. I would most assuredly to that."

"Hate to break it to you," Mr. Winkle said, "but I've never heard of a wolf fur coat before."

The seven of them had been searching for the wolf for nearly a half hour. However, there was no sign of him. But they felt it was too soon and too easy for a victory dance.

Just as Mr. Beaver was about to protest they all heard a loud roar come from the battlefield. Everyone held their breath, hope reclaiming their souls, and a twinkle in their eyes.

"Aslan!" they all shouted.

Before you could say lickety-split, the seven of them raced up the hill, barely able to contain their excitement.

Once they finally made it all the way up the hill, the battle was done. They could see the rest of the enemy running away for their lives. Then they saw Aslan. He was more glorious then any of them had remembered. His mane danced in the wind and his eyes had lightening instead of just a regular twinkle.

"By Aslan's mane," breathed Mr. Beaver.

They saw Aslan ordering a big group of creatures something and they took off, following the escaping villains.

"Honey, if that just ain't the most prettiest thing I ever did see I'd be blind," Mr. Beaver said right before Mrs. Beaver punched his arm.

( )

"What did you do!"

Peter felt like the entire world was crumbling around him, but he was the only one falling into an endless whole. Nothing seemed real anymore. Any trace of joy had vanished. His throat felt tight. He couldn't breathe.

"Edmund, Edmund, wake up!" Susan tried, her crying becoming more hysterical. "Edmund, please, just wake up!" She tried shaking him awake, just like every Saturday morning, only this time, he didn't wake up. He wasn't even breathing and his body was already beginning to feel cold.

Pansy gulped and tried to help Susan. She put an arm on her shoulder and knelt by her side.

"Here," she said, and checked for a pulse. It was clear from her reaction that there was none.

"How could you?" Susan cried again, her gaze pasted onto her little brother's body. "Peter, how could you?"

"I…" he faulted, "I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't,"

"I know you didn't, that's why he's _here_!" This time Susan was barely understandable. "You were supposed to look after him. Mother told _you_ to look after _him_!"

"Wait!" Lucy said, hope starting to return to her. She fumbled for her small diamond bottle and the liquid that would cure anyone.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," said a deep and very sad voice, "but that will not help your brother."

Eight heads turned around. Aslan stood right behind Lucy, a few tears in his eyes, his head bowed.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "Father Christmas said,"

"He said it would heal most things, not everything. And this is one of those things."

"But, he just can't…" Lucy couldn't bear to say the word.

"What?" Aslan asked, as if he didn't already know.

Susan's face turned red, her eyes glaring razors at the mighty lion.

"You said you would protect him. You died for him!" Susan wanted to keep yelling at Aslan, but she heard him sigh. It wasn't a mean or mad sigh, it was a very sad, but just-wait-a-minute sigh.

"You still have one question on your mind, Susan. Ask it," Aslan prompted.

Then so softly that everyone wasn't quite sure they heard it, she asked, "How could you fail?"

**Are you ready for the next and FINAL chapter? If so, continue reading, if not, suck it up. JK LoL**

**~Huggles**


	25. Just The Beginning

**(If you know it, I don't own it.)**

**Chapter 25 Just The Beginning**

Maugrim let out a howl, his excitement starting to grow. That was too easy. He threw the crown up in the air and let it land on his head. Now the White Witch would surely forgive him. He started running towards the queen's camp.

As he neared, Maugrim knew something wasn't right. He heard yells but not ones of joy. It was more terrified than anything. Slowing down to a mere crawl, the wolf decided to take a peek, just to make sure it would still be ok to show himself. His senses started overtime as he inched his way to the camp, trees and bushes hiding him all the way.

Suddenly, yells and cheers were heard resounding through the wood. The camp got quiet. Within moments Aslan's posse swept through the camp, spreading panic and disorder. There was no competition. Aslan would win.

Just before he turned around and high-tailed it out of there, something golden and huge caught his eye. Looking closer his heart stopped and fell down to his paws. It couldn't be. He was dead. But standing only a few yards away was the Great Lion. Aslan had come.

As Maugrim saw his comrades fall the White Witch emerged. She was yelling orders to her decreasing army. Some listened, but most fled for their lives, but never getting past the edge of the camp alive.

Her Majesty went into action, trying to turn her enemies to stone, but failing horribly. Her arm was shaking so badly Maugrim thought the earth was shaking. Her composer was slipping away as she saw that she was defeated. Her eyes no longer held hate and victory. Instead confusion filled its place.

As she turned around for the first time, she saw Aslan.

"You," she croaked. Then a little more sure of herself, she said, "Let's finish this. If I can kill you once, I can kill you again."

"Did you really kill me?" Aslan countered, a laughing mockery in His voice. "Yes I was dead, but I died willingly, and now I am living again. You can never keep me down. But I can to you."

"Just try doing…" The witch never finished her statement before Aslan killed her in one little movement.

Maugrim knew it was time to leave, and he did, running into the deep of the wood, never looking behind him, the crown still on his head.

( )

The question Susan asked pounded in each of their heads. _How could Aslan fail_? Not one single heart could completely remove the doubt that was building up.

"Do you not trust me, Susan?" Aslan asked.

Lucy answered. "Can you," she faltered. "Can you save him?"

"What do you think?" responded Aslan.

Lucy took a minute to think over the question. She had once thought that Aslan could do anything, and deep down inside, Lucy believed that still.

"Yes," Lucy said, firmly.

"The heart of a child is the most believable, even when there is only the impossible."

Hermione pulled Ron out of the way as Aslan made His way through, towards Edmund. As she looked at Ron, he held a growing smile. It was an imitation of the one Lucy wore. Peter still looked as if he were going to a hanging. Pansy looked hopeful but Draco looked, well he looked like Draco, cold and stone.

Hermione forced herself to look back. She didn't know what Aslan was going to do. She doubted He could do anything to save Edmund. But that didn't stop the little speck of hope that tried to start a flame.

Aslan looked at Edmund, His eyes grave, but then He smiled. He took in a deep breath and with twinkling eyes, He blew it out at Edmund. For a moment, nothing happened. Another moment came and gone and still nothing happened.

The world seemed so tense at the moment that you could have heard a fly. The moment seemed so thick that you could cut it with a knife, but the moment dragged on and left. And on this moment, Peter's real miracle happened.

Everyone jumped back, even Susan and Pansy, who were standing just in front of Draco, as Edmund gasped for breath. Then he took another large gulpful of air before he started coughing. Everybody stood still, too stunned to think.

"Edmund!" Lucy yelled, falling to the ground beside her brother, her smile too big for her small face.

"Hey! That hurts," groaned Edmund, pushing away Lucy's embrace. Blinking he looked around at all the stunned faces, than to Aslan.

Every bone in his body felt new. His chest didn't feel like a ten ton brick was crushing down on it. His cuts healed, even the deep wound in his stomach. He felt… He didn't know exactly what he felt.

Before Edmund turned away from Aslan, Peter and Susan rushed over, grabbing him in an airless hug. And then he knew. He felt alive.

( )

"And then I jumped out at the beast, the size of that boulder over there," Mr. Beaver was saying, enthusiastically moving his arms and even his tail along with the story, nearly spilling his beer.

"That gave me time to get away," chimed in Mr. Winkle. "Of course I had a plan that I was putting into action."

"The huge beast started to run at me, but I stood my ground…"

"You did not! You ran away into a corner…"

"Alley, it was an alley!"

"A dead end alley."

As the crowd laughed, Mr. Beaver and Mr. Winkle told their story, adding and taking away things as they wished. The squirrels jumped in with their own little revised portion of their story.

Lucy had given a drop of her liquid to every wounded creature, and before long, the entire population of Aslan's Camp was dancing and singing.

Edmund and Ron were the center of attention. Ron because he led the Almost Last Charge, as he called it. And Edmund because of him being alive.

Edmund had been filled in on what had happened, but instead of milking it like normal; he just gave a solemn grin and told everyone to congratulate Aslan. He was leaning against a table, telling the cluster around him his version of the story.

Peter sat at the end of camp, watching everyone else have a great time. He even saw Draco and Pansy dancing and telling their story. But something inside him made him feel out of place. He felt he needed time alone, and in the shadows of the tents, he was.

However, it didn't take long before Starr noticed.

"Your Majesty," he bowed.

"Starr," Peter said, taking a small glance at his friend, "do you ever feel…Oh I don't know."

Star put his hand on Peter's shoulder, gazing at the party before them.

"Overwhelmed?"

Peter looked at Starr for the first time since he'd come. Overwhelmed was the word he was looking for. Everything was scrambled up, out of order and context. He had just been in battle, fighting bulls and leopards. His only brother had been dead, but he was now as alive as could be.

All Peter could do was nod his head.

"It'll all make sense in time. But for the moment, enjoy the celebration." Starr slightly jerked his head towards Edmund, who was scanning the crowd for someone. "He's looking for you."

"Thanks," Peter told Starr as he got up and sauntered over to the festivities.

( )

Most everyone had settled down and about half were already asleep. The party had been great, and hearing everyone tell their tail was even better, especially if you asked Mr. Beaver and Mr. Winkle. Their story changed every time they told it.

Peter had joined in after dark but by the time the moon was high in the sky he was having a blast. Pansy had gotten him to dance since Draco was too busy telling how he fought off a giant troll. Susan and Ron had been pushed onto the dance floor by Lucy and it was all too clear Hermione hadn't liked it one bit.

Looking back at only a few hours ago, Edmund looked up at the sky. He had died that day, but like Aslan, the witch just couldn't keep her victims dead.

He hugged Lucy tighter to him as she shivered lightly from the wind. Susan scooted closer to block Lucy from the cold. Edmund couldn't help but think she just wanted a reason to be close to him. Being protective was one thing, but making sure he didn't trip over his own two feet was another.

He looked over to the sleeping trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. There were only four thrones, but there was twice as many humans. They couldn't all be king and queen, could they? Glancing towards the other two Hogwarts students, he bet Draco was thinking the same thing.

Who would be crowned at Chair Paravel and who wouldn't?

( )

The ceremony was great, the food was excellent, and the loathing look in Draco's eyes made the day perfect. Ron couldn't have asked for a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon. He looked at the High King of Narnia, King Peter the Magnificent and King Edmund the Just, the other King of Narnia. The Queens of Narnia were Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant. However, there was no King Draco the Something-or-Another.

Instead of being crowned Kings and Queens of Narnia, the Hogwarts students were knighted into knighthood and became Sir Harry, Sir Ronald, although the last part of his name, the Brave could be debated and Sir Draco. The girls were the same way, Sir Hermione and Sir Pansy, although Ron couldn't see how 'Sir' was a better title than Madam or something more girly.

"I am so excited!" squealed Hermione. "I'm a Knight of Narnia!"

"We're all Knights of Narnia," Harry said, sounding almost as excited.

The Knights of Narnia had decided to take a stroll along the beach below Chair Paravel. At least that was the proper name for such people of their status. They really were having fun at the beach.

"I don't see why they should be crowned Kings of Narnia!" scoffed Draco. "They're Muggles!"

"There's a reason," persisted Pansy, for the one thousandth time.

"What then?"

"Well, for starters, more people will want to murder the Kings and Queens, not the Knights, if Narnia were to be invaded."

Ron chuckled. "Hate to tell you, mate, but we'd be the first to go since our job is to defend the Kings and Queens if Narnia were under attack."

Pansy shot Ron a glare, almost as good as Hermione.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, "There's a cave. C'mon!"

It didn't take long before they were inside the cave. They couldn't see very well since it was so dark, but Ron was sure it didn't have any buried pirate's treasure. What a waste of a cave.

"What's this?"

Ron turned around to see Hermione slip between two massive rocks that almost reached the roof of the cave. Shrugging at Harry, Ron followed. What he saw on the other side made him stop in his tracks, nearly bumping Hermione.

"A, guys," Ron yelled, "You might wanna check this out."

Of course that made Draco and Pansy push their way through before Harry, and in their hurry, knocking down Hermione and Ron.

"Draco, why is there a forest inside a cave?" Pansy asked pleasantly.

"Only one way to find out," Harry said, with a grin, "Let's go."

Looking up, Ron realized they weren't inside the cave anymore. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the light breeze felt wonderful on this warm summer day. Birds chirped and the trees swayed.

Suddenly they came out onto a clearing where the trees stopped but the grass went rolling along. As they went along their way, they couldn't help but think there was something familiar about this place. The way everything was placed reminded them of something. That something popped out at them.

A lamppost.

"Wait, I know this place!" yelled Pansy excitedly and she ran forward, leading the way back into the wood on the other side of the clearing.

She pushed back branches and stepped on the over brush that was interfering with her route. She weaved her way this way and that, trying to stay on a straight path. The closer they got to Pansy's destination, the faster she went. This way, that way, jump over this rock, duck under the low branches. Then right in front of them, right in the middle of the wood was the wardrobe.

"Wow, I nearly forgot about this," mumbled Harry.

Pansy turned around, a triumphant smile plastered on her face.

"See, Draco," she mused, "There's a reason we weren't crowned kings and queens. See? We're going home."

Draco grinned. "Wait till I tell Professor Snape you were in the Staff Room."

"You were in there too!" Hermione pointed out.

Rolling his eyes, he stepped into the wardrobe after Pansy.

Harry gave a half hearted grin and followed suit. Soon the tree branches turned into each other scrambling to get out of the wardrobe. Pansy pushed open the door and the five of them fell out.

"What is the meaning of this?" came an all too familiar voice.

Looking up, all five saw Professor Snape glaring down on them. Crabbe and Goyle looked pleased with themselves, a smirk on each of their faces.

"Stand up," snapped Snape.

The five children hastily stood up. They had their wands back, just as if they've always had them. They were no longer wearing their fancy knighthood clothing that Ron despised half the time he wore it. They also no longer had their weapons on them. His tomahawk was gone. So was Harry's flail.

"Fifty points off both Slytherin and Gryffindor for each of you," Professor Snape said in his monotone.

"But, Sir, we have one more person then they do," Hermione tried to reason.

"Not really. Slytherin has both Crabbe and Goyle," Ron said.

Professor Snape sighed deeply, as thought he was trying his absolute hardest not to turn Mr. Weasley into something unnatural.

"One hundred off Slytherin, two hundred for Gryffindor."

"You mean, one hundred and fifty," corrected Hermione.

"No," Snape drawled. "I mean two hundred for your House, unless you wish to lose more."

Hermione locked her jaw so she wouldn't say anything else to make Snape take more points off.

"Now out!" Snape said, pointing towards the door.

The five of them couldn't get out soon enough. As they headed to their House common room Draco swirled around, facing Harry, mere inches apart.

"This doesn't change anything, Potter," he spat. Then he spun on his heels and left.

"I wonder if we'll ever get to go back to Narnia," Ron wondered aloud. "I miss my tomahawk."

As they wound their way up the stairs to their common house Mrs. McGonagall was up at the top to meet them. Her stern face didn't make the three any happier.

"I've been looking all over for you three," she said, her eyes accusing each one. "Where have you been?" At their silence she added, "You haven't gotten yourselves in trouble have you, Mr. Potter?"

"Trouble?" Harry asked, wondering what to tell her.

"Yes, trouble. Professor Snape told me you were in the wardrobe in the staff room. Is that correct?"

The three nodded.

"Then I must ask this. What on Earth were you doing in there?"

Smiles spread across three faces. They wouldn't tell her, at least not now. No one would believe them anyway.

"Just saving the world, that's all," Ron said, and the three of them scooted past McGonagall and into their common house.

**Por Fin**


End file.
